The Broken Ones
by Cakenbakin
Summary: A little drabble of the Cadvan/Maered relationship and their seperate pasts that devide and unite them. Maered struggles with her feelings for Cadvan and her fear of love while Arkan plots to take her back. M to be safe Bad summary, good story
1. Chapter 1 Maered

**AN: This is my first Pellinor fic, and so I'd love to hear what you think about it. I thought Cadvan and Maered needed a little more development. **

Cadvan supposed he had always known it. He loved Maered. But she was so nervous around him, as if she expected him to take her virtue and leave her. He wanted to have her, but he could fathom no reason for their being together. He was her teacher, her mentor and he had no place in her heart.

Watching her sleep on Silvia's couch after a long day of training almost hurt him physically. He watched the gentle rise and fall of her small breasts and the way her dark hair fell in tangled curls about her face until Malgorn came around the corner and put his hand on Cadvan's shoulder.

"We cannot all be saints, lad," He said with conviction, "But don't let her catch you staring. She'll not forgive you." With that he chuckled and walked away, but Cadvan keep staring. He felt like a traitor to his long lost love, but he could not help the way he felt. When he first set eyes on her in the cow byre he had seen only a child, a small, vulnerable girl who had not yet to even to develop womanly vestiges, but that child was gone. Almost.

She still shied away from his touch, and their kiss so long ago felt like a dream. Since then they had not so much as touched. Many young men hung around her and attempted to get her attention, but she was guarded and if one moved past her comfort zone, she would lash out or run away. It was sad that she had been conditioned to expect such depravity, but it was to be expected in a place where rape and murder were the norm. She could not relax, and she seemed broken, wishing to love but not knowing how.

He had often fantasized about her coming to his rooms late at night and letting him touch her, but those thoughts always ended him up in a shower of ice water at all hours of the night. Some young bards near the bath house would complain, but they had not been able to catch the mystery occupant yet.

The thought itself made him turn away from Maered, but he could not look away long. When he had retrieved a cold glass of water, he came back and leaned against the wall. When he looked at her again, only tenderness crossed his mind. He had mastered himself and could now look upon her without feeling uncomfortable.

_Cadvan, Cadvan…_ Maered mumbled through the bond, _Cadvan, please… _

Cadvan looked with concern at the sleeping form. Without hesitation he rushed to her side and felt her forehead. Even since the dark had gone her Elidhu side had begun to take stronger control and she claimed to be hearing the Winter King's voice almost daily. He could feel no fever, but when he checked her pulse she moved into the contact and ran her lips along his wrist. He shivered and pulled his hand away, watching her.

_Cadvan,_ she whispered, _Stay with me, please_. Cadvan paused and sat beside her on the floor. She mumbled something again and Cadvan looked over. This time she was whimpering and she called out the Winter King's Elidhu name. She began to struggle and Cadvan picked her up, soothing her with quiet words.

He took her to her rooms and tucked her in her bed with careful fingers. The action seemed to wake her, and she looked up with automatic terror at the one who touched her. When she opened her eyes and saw it was just him, she relaxed but looked puzzled.

"Cadvan, why are you here?" She asked sleepily.

"You were having a bad dream again," he said gently.

"Oh," she said. "Cadvan, could I ask you something?"

"What is it?" He replied, feeling suddenly uncertain. He loved to be able to answer Maered's every question, but to be truthful; some were far beyond his understanding.

"Why did you cross to the dark?" He had not been expecting this, and sat down on the edge of her bed, thinking.

"We all have our reasons," he said evasively. "I was in a very unhappy place and the Hulls were convincing. It is not the talk of night."

"Well if you won't answer me," Maered replied, propping herself up in bed, "then tell me this, why won't all the boys leave me alone? Am I terribly ugly, Cadvan?" She asked, looking suddenly upset. Cadvan had to stop himself from laughing.

"Maered, you are so grown up in some ways, but in others," He trailed off and chuckled.

"And what?" She replied pugnaciously, "stupid in other ways?"

"No, no," Cadvan became quiet and serious, "Maered, you are a beautiful woman, but you are young in some ways. The light is new in you, and so is life." When Maered heard him call her beautiful, her face darkened and she clutched the covers closer to her chest in a protective, subconscious gesture. Cadvan sighed.

"You remembered when we kissed?" She asked, gauging his response carefully.

"Yes," Cadvan replied, a little shocked that she would bring it up.

"Well I—I," Maered broke off and melted deeper into the covers.

"What?" Cadvan asked.

"Nothing, I'm just a little tired and I wondered about it. That's all."

"You don't have to be ashamed of what we did," Cadvan reassured her, eyes serious. It was Maered's turn to blush and stammer.

"I'm not sorry for it," She replied, "I just wondered about it. The boys in the village sometimes tell me about what it was like for them when they kissed someone for the first time."

"Those boys," Cadvan shook his head. "What did they tell you?"

"That it takes practice."

"Oh?" Cadvan's eyebrows rose.

"Yes," Maered said nonplus. "And I was wondering if you could help me get some."

"Some what?" Cadvan asked dumbly.

"You know, practice," She said, giggling.

"Oh, that," Cadvan looked at her hard. "You don't need it." He was fighting his own desires, and when he told her she didn't need it the familiar discomfort was beginning to return.

"But would you help me?" Maered returned in adamant tones. She gave Cadvan one of her doe eyed smiles and he felt his will dissolve.

"Fine" He grumbled. "Where and when?"

"In my rooms tomorrow afternoon. You aren't teaching and training is off for me because the new writing master hasn't arrived from the Suderain yet."

"I can't go to your _rooms_," Cadvan replied pointedly, "it would look suspicious."

"Why?" Maered challenged in her childish way, "You are my mentor, why is a mentor visiting his student odd?"

"I would just prefer it be in a more professional setting," Cadvan deflected again, "what about my study at three. I teach til then and I can be back for you."

"It's a date then," Maered said and closed her eyes. Cadvan winced at the word, but she didn't notice. "Good night Cadvan. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, Maered," he replied and closed her door.

That night it was two ice showers and on the second the angry young bards caught him.

**So what do you think? I'm going to add some Maered/ Cadvan separate histories, but there it is. The first part! I'd love to know what you all think. There might be some mature themes coming up including alcohol and a little you know, more grown up stuff, but for now I just want to get the point across. Should Cadvan do it? Would he be able to control the way he "feels" for Maered? R&R and tell me!**


	2. Chapter 2 Ice Showers and Bard Caves

"Hey, Lord Cadvan, hey!"

Cadvan shook his head to rid himself of the sleep that fogged his mind. He looked from where he had been sitting in a sort of semi-stupor, hoping that his writing student would not bother him.

"What is it Koldorath?" Cadvan replied, looking up to see an eager faced young bard holding a poem out to him.

"I was wondering, Sir, if you would check this over. It is about the Lady Maered." He caught the sharp look Cadvan threw him and supplied lamely, "I just wanted to make sure my retelling was correct."

Cadvan looked down with mild distaste.

_And so did go the Lady Fair, far from home and in dispaire…_

"You spelt despair wrong," Cadvan said, scratching out the word with his quill.

…_She traveled far, her heart all broke, a young untrained creature of the wild._

"Lady Maered is not a creature of the wild," Cadvan said in a bored voice, "but I like your prose, keep writing and we'll see where it goes."

Koldorath nodded and shuffled back to his seat. It seemed as if the same infliction had overcome all the young male bards. They all loved to write about Maered. One too many sickly lines about the color of her hair, the shade of her eyes, and the texture of her skin would often send him away from the room almost gagging and sometimes fighting to control the laughter that sprung from such silly stories and comparisons.

Therefore he liked the afternoon classes. They were comprised of women from the school's mathematic core, and they felt no such need to glorify Maered in such a way as to make fools of themselves. They were sharply intelligent, unlike the misty eyed boys and girls who wrote poetry in the morning.

When classes were out, he wandered along the corridor to the garden, where a fine layer of sunlight made the remaining dew sparkle and glow in the light. He closed his eyes then, exhausted from the concealment charm he had to perform to keep the young bards confused about his identity the night before at the bath house.

He found a perch on the low stone wall with heavy supporting arches and leaned back. Soon he fell asleep, completely by accident and was awoken when he fell off the wall in surprise.

Maered looked down at him from above and laughed.

"You should have seen your face," She chuckled, "what wrong with you today?"

"Had a bad sleep," Cadvan mumbled, picking himself off and dusting grass off his back and shoulders. Maered took to helping him, and he let her, using his mentor mindset. She only wished to help.

"Have you forgotten about today?" She asked, watching him readjust his tunic and pick grass from his hair.

"What are you talking about?" Cadvan countered, "It is but noon."

"No-o-o-o," Maered grinned. "It's three thirty. I came looking for you after Master Heldine took over from you. He hadn't seen you, and thought if you were missing, you would have had very important business keeping you away. Mysterious stuff, you know—but instead you are here."

"Indeed," Cadvan replied, "I'll have to give that man a bottle from the Bard's reserve. I think I still have credit with the Cellar Master."

"Yes, but not now," Maered said impatiently, "but for now, to the Bard Cave!"

"The Bard Cave?" Cadvan asked with a funny expression.

"Yes," Maered looked down and her cheeks colored red, "I thought—oh never mind, come on!" She dragged Cadvan back inside and let him go when they saw a few stray bards leaned against the wall or sitting on low stone benches in the corridor, noses deep into their texts. Maered giggled conspiratorially, and one of the bards, an older woman named Yelannie, looked up from her book and gave Cadvan a vastly disapproving look.

When they arrived at his quarters, Cadvan closed the door and poured them both a healthy measure of wine.

"So," Maered said nervously. Cadvan looked up and look a long draught from his cup.

"You know this is not how it is usually done," he commented blandly.

"I know," she replied defensively. "Guess what?"

Cadvan gave her a mildly interested look.

"It's my birthday in a few days." Cadvan almost kicked himself. He had forgotten, and had not yet gotten her anything. "So, you owe me," she continued, "not to mention since you dragged me across half of Annar on our little quest."

"Fine," Cadvan said, "come here then, Maered."

Maered pulled her chair closer and Cadvan examined her closely. Perhaps those sticky sweet poems were right about her. She was indeed beautiful, with full red lips and stormy blue eyes that held the Elidhu quality not unlike her counterpart in Rachida. He was possessed with a sudden urge to kiss her, but stopped himself only enough to say, "I'm going to kiss you now. Pull away if you are uncomfortable."

He kissed her then, but only lightly. She tensed for a moment, but then pressed into him, almost unseating him from his place.

"You didn't kiss me like this when we solved the Riddle," She said when she pulled away for a moment. Was that longing he heard in her voice?

Her tone made him kiss her again, and when they were done she gave him a wicked look.

"Ok, that's good," she said. "See you tomorrow, Cadvan." She stood up and traipsed out of the room. Cadvan sat watching where she had gone for some while before draining his goblet and heading off for dinner.

In the hallway he met again with Yelannie. She shook her head with a stern expression.

"You are here to train her," She reminded him, "not to take her virtue."

**AN: Another chapter complete! Ya! I was going to write more, but I gotta go, toodles! More soon. Thanks for the lovely review, I really appreciate getting them. Side note though, should Cadvan succumb to Maered or will another force him into action? R&R as always**


	3. Chapter 3 Dreams and Nightmares

**AN: So I forgot to do a disclaimer, but here it is. I disclaim owning the story, characters and such. Enjoy, but don't sue me. ;)**

Cadvan stood in Yelannie's wake for some time after she had walked away and out of sight. He was shocked by the old bard's words, but he knew that she was right. He could not to that to Maered. He would have to tell her.

He half wished that Dernhil had lived, for if he had, it would have been so much easier for Maered and him. She would have followed her heart and they would have been happy together. Cadvan could have gotten on with his life and that would have been it. He wanted her, there was no mistaking that, but he could not forgive himself for the past, and the Fire Lily of Annar certainly deserved better.

He arrived for dinner brooding, and went away to bed in a mood that matched the darkening sky. It would rain, he reflected. He opened his door, unlocked for the School was based on mutual trust, and stared at the sky for hours before drifting to sleep sometime in the early hours of the morning.

_"Dernhil," Cadvan said, grinning, "Come now; I really think you are setting yourself up for failure. It's no secret I've more skill."_

_ "Ho, we'll see who wins the lady, then," Dernhil returned with a small smile. "I have skills with a quill, not just a sword." The double entendre made the watching bards laugh, and Cadvan colored scarlet, but refused to back down. _

_ "What are you waiting for then?" Cadvan said._

_ "She hasn't gotten here yet, has she?" Dernhil replied. "Ceredin needs to hear this."_

_ "Fine then," Cadvan sighed. Just as he finished saying 'then,' a pretty girl with a tangle of dark hair trooped over to him, her dress adorned simply with dark green stitching and a thin, delicate necklace she always wore. _

_ Her smiling face disappeared and was replaced by a look of horror. They were no longer in the sunny courtyard but in his rooms, where he sat hunched over his desk, collection of herbs and spell book open._

_ "I'm your friend," she said in a frightened voice, "please, don't do this, Cadvan. I could never live with myself if you did. If it's about your father, you know you can tell me. It was hard when he died, but still, you don't need to do this."_

_ "You don't understand," he replied in an ecstatic, persuasive voice, "you've never felt power like this, by the Light, Ceredin, if you had, you'd understand. Sharma is our way out."_

_ "Your way, perhaps," she said scoldingly, "but not ours. What's happened to you? Will you become a Hull and never die? Or will you become one of his minions" _

_ "You don't understand!" Bellowed Cadvan, rising from his seat in a huff, "We will be rich and you'll be showered in all the gems you could want!"_

_ "I don't want gems," she replied quietly, "All I want is you, my old Cadvan." _

_Her face dissolved and Cadvan was kneeling on the dark cobblestones of an obscure Lirhan alley, his eyes glossy with tears. He held Ceredin in his arms and whispered to her, though she was already dead. _

"_Weakness," A nearby Hull hissed, "Leave her, we must go."_

_Cadvan looked up and fury, hot and complete, swelled within him. He gently lowered his ex-lover to the ground and with the power he never knew he possessed, he shouted a curse, surprising the Hull. It countered the blow, and Cadvan was sent sprawling on the ground. _

"_You would do well not to insult your friends," the Hull said, enraged. It screamed another curse but Cadvan used its own spell against him. He fought the dark with dark, and when it began to falter, marshaled all his remaining strength and sent a spell of the light to finish it. It cried out and crumpled, dissolving into bone as it fell. _

_Cadvan moved back to Ceredin and took her back in his arms, crying her name like a man lost in the dark…_

He awoke calling her name, soaking wet and gasping for air.

**AN: Thoughts? Here's some of his history, a look at what happened (kind of) with him and Ceredin when he fell to the dark. R&R as always!**


	4. Chapter 5 Stirrups and Stirrings

_Arkan was once again speaking to her, his cold Elidhu voice beckoning her to come back to him. _

_ "Maered," he said, "Come back, you will be safe here, that other bard cannot be trusted. You would be a queen if you came back…" and then the world exploded in fire and she saw herself burning, Cadvan standing by, watching her with a passive expression. _

_ "Please!" Maered screamed, struggling against the bonds that held her, "Cadvan, help me!" Cadvan did not move, and then he smiled, a cruel, inhuman smile,_

_ "You were not wise to trust me," He said, "You should have been weary. What do you think happened to Ceredin?"_ He let the question linger in the air, and Maered awoke panting and clutching her hand, the one with the missing fingers crudely sewn up.

She could not go back to sleep, so she dressed for riding, pulling up her worn leather chaps to her knee. She knew Vaner was supposed to join her, so she walked from the sleepy bard house to the stables and when her mount was tacked, she moved to his, a cute palomino gelding named Spark. She was just cinching up Spark's girth strap when she saw Vaner round the corner, two apples and his riding crop under his arm.

"You did both our horses?" He sounded surprised. "How long have you been up?"

"A while," Maered avoided the question. She took the apples from him and fed them to the horses.

"You've not been sleeping," he gave her a critical look, walking over with his arms folded.

"For the Lights sake, does everyone know?" Maered cried exasperatedly. Vaner looked wounded and shook his head.

"No, you told me."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Maered apologized, feeling instantly bad for her words. "Let's go, I need to be back for lessons at soon. She led her horse out onto the path that led into the Innail woods, a perfect place for riding.

When she was sure Vaner followed her, she got up onto her own horse and they were off. Maered pushed the poor beast so hard that its nostrils flared and when Vaner caught up with her, his naturally curly hair was tousled and out of control.

"You are most definitely not alright," he decided.

"Of course I am," Maered replied with a shake of her long hair, "I'll race you to the gully." She kicked her horse and they were off. The gully was about a mile south, and it provided open fields for riding. Sometimes the farmers even set out log obstacles and cross beams good naturedly for the young bards to jump.

Maered's heart soared, and she did not even notice the divot in the terrain ahead. Her horse stumbled and fell when its foot caught a loose stone and Maered went tumbling to the ground. Her leg got caught in the stirrup, and the horse attempted to stand. Maered cried out in pain and she felt her knee twist out of its socket. She shook her leg, but then the horse began to moved, doing a jittery dance around her, barely avoiding her stomach and head several times.

Vaner came out of nowhere and calmed the horse enough to pull off the stirrup and let Maered's leg rest on the ground. When it moved, she cried out in pain and gasped for breath.

"Be careful!" she said in a labored voice. Vaner knelt down and looked at her and gave her a serious look.

"You need to get that checked when we get back, but its swelling up. Do you want me to look at it?" Maered gulped and nodded, knowing that Vaner was a Medibard in the second year of his training. Gently, Vaner touched her knee cap and Maered cried out.

"You definitely bruised something," he said, "but you need to get back before we take of your chaps and pants. They will help compress the spot so you don't swell too badly. Can you stand if you lean against me?" Maered nodded, and Vaner hoisted her back up onto her horse. He ponied her home, and Maered was surprised to see Cadvan at the stable door, his face stern. When he saw the expression of pain on her face, however, and the dirt that covered her hands, his expression immediately turned concerned.

"What happened?" He demanded of Vaner, eyes hard. Maered had seen that protective look before and Maered tried to calm him.

"It was nothing," she replied.

"She fell off her horse," Vaner looked at Cadvan, "and her foot got caught in the stirrup."

"Aye, Maered," Cadvan said, "you will be the death of me. He helped her down from the horse and let her lean against him. "Put the horses away," he instructed Vaner. "If you want to see her, meet us in the Medicinal ward." Vaner nodded and gave Maered one last look of concern.

When Vaner went away Cadvan picked Maered up, and carried her to the Ward. The nurse was not in, and so Cadvan began work himself, easing off her shoe, chap, and then instructing her to pull up her riding pants. Luckily they were not her jodhpurs and could be rolled up easily without much pain. His fingers gently probed the spot, which was dark red and black and beginning to swell.

Maered winced when Cadvan touched the painful spots, and he looked up at her when he was done examining the injury.

"You were lucky," he said solemnly, "You could have been very badly hurt."

"I know," Maered mumbled.

"Why were you riding that green filly anyway?" Cadvan asked, "I told you to take Darsor if you ever wanted to go. Yours is not ready yet to be ridden by someone without experience."

"Bee is a good horse," Maered defending her yearling, "she just needs to get a better footing."

"And hurt you in the process," Cadvan scoffed. "I'm glad you are well, though," he said in a lower voice, catching her eye and keeping it, "I meant it when I said you could have been hurt. The Fire Lily of Annar does not need to be injured on a horse." Maered broke his gaze when she felt him rolling the leg of her pant down and a foreign feeling shot through her leg into her belly. It was pleasant, but foreign, and she could not help the shiver that ran up her spine at their contact.

She looked back at Cadvan, and it looked as if he knew what she was thinking. She glanced away, ashamed of herself.

"Just stay safe," he said in a suddenly tired voice, moving aside when he saw the Healing Matron, a bard named Fiea, shuffle over. "When you are out of here, there is lore to be learned in my study, or if you cannot walk, send for me and I will meet you in your rooms." Maered nodded, and the matron began her work.

When Maered left she was bandaged up and given a bottle of anti-swelling tonic. She leaned heavily on a crutch to walk, and went back to her chambers miserable. She had forgotten the presentation from the traveling bard, and soon fell into uncomfortable sleep, her leg sore and throbbing.

Cadvan arrived at dusk with a pile of books and it took Maered all of her energy to listen to him. The tonic was strong, and it made one sleepy if drank on an empty stomach.

"Cadvan," Maered asked when she was almost asleep. She meant to ask him about the electricity in their touch and why she felt it, but when she looked at him she suddenly felt silly.

"Yes?" he replied, piling his books into a neat stack at the end of her bed.

"Nothing."

**AN: So what do you think? I wanted some action, and so it begins. (Looks like Maered has a crush she doesn't know what to do with!) Should she tell him? How should he find out? **


	5. Chapter 6 Work and Work

**AN: Hey, I'm back with more Cadvan/Maered fun! Thank you for the reviews, I hope I got it right here, but if not, feel free to correct me :)**

Cadvan liked his walks around Innail in the morning; they refreshed him and brought him out of his mental stupor.

He was not sleeping again. Insomnia had plagued him worse that when he was out in the wild. Though the Bard Houses of Innail were much safer than the dangerous wilderness of the rest of Annar, he could not sleep in his too hot study or listen to the distant noises of life from his open window. Most of all, though, he missed hearing Maered breath; the gentle inhale and exhale. He knew it was folly, but their sense of familiarity made him relax, and in a time where his nerves were frayed from teaching and poor nights.

He saw the townspeople arranging the market, setting out long chains of garlic and flowers. He nodded to them, and they went about their business. The smell of meat, spices and horse manure added to a pungent bouquet, but he was pleased to see the people so prosperous after such hardship. Others, like the ones he would soon go to help, had not been so lucky.

In those villages that had not been so lucky, the Dark had dug its talons deep. Milhol was one such place that had become a backwater slum for loose women and the hopeless. It was deeply scarred, but with the help of the Bards of Innail, it was slowly being brought out of its deep, disturbed sleep.

He had not told Maered. He thought that if he did she would want to go, and he knew that if she did, she would not be able to stay back and study. She had a lot of work to do, and a vacation would just delay her learning. Besides, he had already arranged a replacement for himself, a bard named Go, who was travelling from Ettinor and happened to be in Innail for the time Cadvan was gone. Go was more than eager to help, for he had heard the stories of the Fire Lily, and thought in an honor to be selected to tutor her.

Cadvan began to whistle a happy, random tune as he walked, and when he saw Malgorn coming from a house ahead, he called out to him. Malgorn smiled and shoved a scroll into his pocket.

"Beautiful morning, is it not?" Cadvan said, drawing level with his friend.

"Indeed," Malgorn nodded, "more so as another orphan has been adopted." Malgorn, like most other bards, had decided to help out, and he had taken the job of home-finder for poor Annar orphans. The Ettinor orphanage was overflowing, and since the policy there was to keep everyone who needed help, they had run out of beds, medicine and supplies.

Some in Ettinor still favored Enkir's ways of selfishness and greed, and so to get food for the children was slow and difficult work that often relied on the new First Bard calling together the people and sending out a plea for their help.

"You still planning on going to Milhol then?" Malgorn asked, "Because if they need help, I would be more than pleased to offer myself to the work of the Light."

"I know," Cadvan smiled, "but you are needed here. If I believed that they needed you in Milhol more than here I would have told you promptly of this." Malgorn nodded and began to walk with Cadvan.

"I heard about Maered and the accident," Malgorn replied in a nonchalant voice, "She will be well soon enough, I presume?"

"Yes, yes," Cadvan nodded, thinking back to the day before, "Just a sprain, or so I am told."

"And she did not want to go with you to Milhol?"

"I haven't told her I'm even going yet," Cadvan replied, "if she knows, she's being very quiet about it."

"And what if she asks to go?" Malgorn said.

"I'll tell her that she needs to stay here and work on her studies," Cadvan replied simply.

"Aye, boy, you're working that girl too hard," Malgorn shook his head, "a lady needs breaks every now and again to keep her mind sharp, or else she will get angry and stop work all together. I learned that the hard way," He looked away mysteriously.

"But the lore—," Cadvan argued.

"The Lore is older than the Great Silence, I am sure it can wait." Malgorn put up a hand to end their conversation, and they walked in companionable silence back to the School where Silvia was waiting with a basket of fresh produce tucked under her arm.

When Malgorn drew level, she pilled some of her wares into his arms and looked past him to Cadvan.

"Cadvan," she said, "Maered's been asking for you. I wouldn't let her leave her room with her knee so damaged, so I have become her messenger."

"Is something wrong?" Cadvan asked concernidly.

"Not that I know," Silvia replied. "You," she looked at her husband, "should get those into the cellar, I do not want soft lettuce." Malgorn nodded and went into the house. "Like I was saying," she continued when Malgorn was safely out of earshot, "nothing is wrong, but I fear you may be at the back of your young student's mind now."

"What do you mean?" Cadvan asked.

"A young bard named Vaner called on her before I went to market. He seemed thoroughly smitten."

"He's just a boy," Cadvan replied with a frown, "Maered will want none of it when she sees what men by the likes of him are like."

"Jelousy is not becoming of a man of your stature," Silvia said, smiling with a type of smug satisfaction, "why, I do believe it makes you look rather cross." Silvia chuckled and left him to find Maered.

When he arrived in her room, he saw the boy, Vaner, sitting on the edge of Maered's bed, reading to her. A large bouquet of flowers stood in a clay decanter beside her bed. Vaner looked up first and gave Cadvan a friendly smile, though when he tried to return it he feared it looked more like a grimace.

Vaner looked down at Maered, said something quietly, and got up, leaving the book open by her arm. He nodded once to Cadvan and moved out of the room with one last lingering glance at her.

"You have made friends, I see," Cadvan said wryly, "One who brings you flowers, too."

"Indeed," Maered replied, her voice suddenly petulent, "and this friend has told me of your secret plans to go to Milhol."

"They were not secret," Cadvan replied, "I just knew that if I told you that you would want to follow me there."

"I do not want to follow you," Maered clasped her hands tightly, "I wanted to help. I have been studying continuously, even on weeks end and feast days."

"That is what is required of you to become a great bard," Cadvan said, reciting the words his old mentor Nelac used to say to him, "There is no success without sweat."

"…And tears, aparently," Maered shot back sourly.

"How are you supposed to go now with your knee?" Cadvan said in a tone he considered to be reasonable, but apparently was not based on Maered's dark look.

"My knee was my own doing," she said, "But you could have told me. It hurts me that you would not tell me. Am I not still your student?"

"Aye, you are," Cadvan sighed, "I suppose now that I should have told you, but for the interim, I have arranged another teacher for you, a bard named Go, who will be teaching you for the week that I am gone."

"He can 'Go' away, and so can you," Maered said pugnaciously, "I know I am terribly behind, but I wish to live as well as work."

"You remember Gilmans Cot?" Cadvan challenged, "You would be working for your life. It is a better thing holding a quill and book than a cow's udder and a pig's tail."

"What has happened there anyway?" Maered narrowed her eyes, "have you gone there as well?"

"No," Cadvan replied, "It was disbanded a while ago when the Light triumphed. "Now the bards have turned it into a healing station. They helped those from the Cot, and many of them stayed back to offer their services to others. It has become a free community. Would you like to see it again?"

Maered shook her head, images of greasy haired, foggy eyed men and muddy puddles, streaked red with the slave's blood tainting her mind.

"No," she said, "Though I would like to honor my mother in the ruins of Pellinor. Perhaps a shrine could be built, or at least a memorial to those lost can be made."

"I will see what the Council says," Cadvan nodded. There was a long pause and Cadvan said, "You like that boy, the one that brought you those?" he gestured to the flowers.

"I do," Maered replied, looking suddenly guarded, "He treats me like a woman, not a creature who can run on endless energy and learn the Lore in all languages in mere weeks."

"Maered…" Cadvan said.

"Don't you 'Maered' me," she replied sternly, "I know why you make me do all this, I am not stupid, but please allow me respite every now and again?" Her words sounded shockinly familiar to Malgorn's, and Cadvan crossed his arms in defiance.

"Whatever you do," Cadvan said decidedly, "you will not leave this bed until you are well enough to walk without a cane."

Maered threw a mug at him.

**AN: R&R! I do believe I see a lemon coming on, but it might just be the sun rising… XD**


	6. Chapter 7 Glimmer and Gone

When Cadvan was gone, Maered sunk deeper into her pillows and brought Vaner's book close. It smelled of his cologne and ink, the sweet scent mingling with the slightly sour tang from the bottle he used.

He had been reading some old words of Lore before Cadvan had interrupted them, looking rather unlike himself. She continued to read the passage Vaner had been telling her about, and in doing so saw a small, folded piece of paper flutter out and land on her bed.

Curious, she unfolded it and began to read a poem, presumably written by Vaner himself, with many revisions and crossings-out.

_I am the moon in the light of her beauty, a pale comparison for such a gift_

_A Fire Lily_

_Cast adrift upon a sea of troubles, where one grows chilly from the deprivation of her _

_For who am I if not the moon and she the sun? _

_Two compliments, but not_

_A beauty in a briar, a heart in the hawthorn _

_To precious for coveting, yet to valuable to let go_

_My Sun, my Heart_

Maered paused and sighed. To hear his words and how he went on made her toes curl and her belly warm. What did Cadvan know about love? The only advantage he had over her was his age. He had not married or been with someone as long as she had known him.

She went to bed thinking of Vaner's dark curls, but dreamt of Arkan. He called her by her Elidhu name, not calling her Maered as he had done before, and she wondered why he would have used her given name at all.

Again he renewed his plea for her to come back to him and she awoke when she felt cold, death-like fingers wind about her neck. She screamed, and heard the sound of raucous laughter. Her eyes flew open to see Jien, her hand above Maered, red from cold and the ice that stood in a bucket beside Maered's bed.

Adran was clutching his side, his laughter echoing about the room. Vaner was chuckling by the door, and Miki and Mika were busy fighting fits of hysteria when they looked at Maered, their faces pink from the effort of not laughing.

"Y-your face!" Hooted Jien, wiping her cold, wet hands on her skirt, "That was absolutely worth it!"

"What are _you_ people doing here?" Maered asked in a cross voice, her heart still hammering wildly in her chest.

"We came to get you. A new Bard just came from Thorold and he's been asking for you."

"Me?" Maered asked, blurry-eyed, sitting up.

"Yes," Jien said, "get dressed and meet us by the garden." She grinned and shepparded the others through Maered's open door, only pausing to say, "Dress wisely, he is _glorious!_"

Maered threw a pillow at her, and got up, changing swiftly as not to keep her mystery visitor waiting. In the back of her mind she hoped that it would be a familiar face, but with all her new found and unwanted fame, she feared it would be just someone else hoping to gawk at the Lily of Annar.

When she met her friends by the garden wall, she almost went weak with fear.

The horrible old woman who helped Arkan stood with a powerful concealment charm shifting about her, giving her the image of a handsome, tall bard. Maered blinked, and the woman was gone, replaced instead by the man.

"Maered of Pellinor," he, or she, said, "What an honor it is to see you at last. I have many things to ask you, would you spare me a minute of your time?" Jien elbowed Maered in the ribs and she swallowed dryly.

"I—I am not sure," Maered said, but before she could say more Jien had pushed the others out of the garden and Maered and the woman were left alone.

"He has missed you, Elednor," she said in a low voice, "When you are returned he will be most pleased." Suddenly sharp images pierced her mind like razors and she fell to the ground, clutching her **head. …Arkan, standing before her… a dizzying swirl of painful memories… blackness. **

**AN: Sorry I didn't update sooner, but I was away. I promise to make it up to you guys though, planning on some Arkan/Maered stuff. Graphic? Possibly depending on what you guys think! R&R!****He**


	7. Chapter 8 Passion of Ice

Maered woke up to Arkan standing above her, his Elidhu face twisted in a cruel mask of satisfaction.

"Your success is commendable," he said, his pale blue eyes indifferent, "But here you would have been safe. You would not have left so easily if I had not let you."

"I escaped my own way," Maered replied defiantly, sitting up so that he was forced back a distance. "And as for safety, there is none here, only a crumbling castle."

"You have brought my song back," he said, ignoring her, "but when you did there was a gap; not what you humans call "longing," but it was as if you had come back, and then left suddenly. But you are here now," he said, standing away from her, his tall, graceful form illuminated by that odd, source less light.

Maered's face paled. She did not know what he wanted, but by his words she feared it was her. Arkan turned back to her and his bright eyes fixed on her face.

"You look so frightened, so mistrustful," He mused, coming back to her and helping her to her feet, "Do you still believe that we Elidhu feel the same as men? The passion for a body?" he trailed one cold finger along her cheek, setting it ablaze with unexpected tingling, "the desire for touch?" He brought his face close to Maered's and she shivering when his lips brushed hers. Her mind knew that he was manipulating her and that her true desires lay leagues away, but his power made her knees weak and her breath ragged. "I once told you that love was needed to make the song, and so it did."

"Love…" Maered echoed, fighting for control as she felt herself becoming more like Gema, the old woman who had taken her away. Arkan smiled and his face turned cruel. He gripped her arms tightly and said in a dark, almost pained voice,

"I once sought to make you my Queen, but you betrayed me and escaped. There is no love without pain." He tightened his grip on her arms and brought his mouth close to her neck, whispering in her ear. Suddenly her body felt alive with a horrible fire, and she writhed in his arms, struggling to get free. The pain lingered, and when it finally stopped, it took all her willpower not to bow into Arkan, her exhaustion causing little beads of sweat to form on her brow.

"I have wishes," Maered said in a near whisper, refusing to give into the Winter King, "Those that you cannot fulfill for me. I will wither and die and you will live. I will go beyond the gates alone, without comfort. To truly love you would mean that when I die I would go beyond the Gates with longing for you that could never be helped."

Arkan was silent, as if he heard what she said and was thinking deeply.

"Elednor, if you wished your passing would not be so lonely for long," He moved his hands from her arms to her waist, his Elidhu power sending tingles down her spine as if their being kin propelled her heart. He caressed her stomach and she did not stop him, though she knew at the back of her mind that she did not love him and did not wish him to touch her as so.

"Passion is a dangerous thing," Arkan chuckled in his low, attractive voice his hands moving back up to cup her breasts, "one that should be watched closely." He touched her nipples lightly and then twisted them so that Maered cried out in pain. She looked up with fear into his eyes and her bottom lip trembled, as if she was afraid to cry.

Arkan took his eyes off Maered and brought his mouth to her sensitive, painful breasts, kissing and caressing them through the thin fabric of her tunic. Maered moaned in spite of herself and realized with a jolt that her knee did not ache, and she was standing, letting Arkan have his way with her. He seemed to feel her reaction, and he dropped his hands to the hem of her shift, running his hands along her back. His fingers were now warm, and they made her skin tingle in a way that made her both hate and desire him.

"It would be wise to forget them," he coed in her ear, working his way up to unlace the binding on the front of the tunic. Maered froze, terrified by his actions, her wariness of men flaring up so that her heart beat like a trapped bird in her chest.

As soon as it was there though, it was inexplicably gone and so was her shirt. She stood, naked from the waist up before Arkan as she had not done with anyone, not even Cadvan, and she wanted to cry. She had always hoped that she would keep her virtue for Cadvan, and that her virgin body could be his, but now as she stood before Arkan she felt her control slipping away. She had no power to resist him, and a deeper-than-herself feral instinct gripped her stomach.

Arkan laid her on the bed and she again felt the Elidhu attraction to him. _It is the Elidhu that is enjoying this, not me,_ Maered thought, but could not resist moaning when Arkan lowered her skirts and rested his hand on the soft spot that guarded her warmth.

Arkan's fingers began to play along the edge of the hairline, and gently move in; placing feather light strokes on the one place she had never dared to touch. His fingers touched a particularly sensitive spot, and Maered gasped when he moved his face so she felt his hot breath on the inside of her thighs. When his mouth met the spot he had just touched, her hips convulsed in pleasure and he let his tongue caress her, slipping inside her for a moment then pulling out to lick the wetness that had begun to seep through her and onto the blankets.

Arkan suddenly flipped her over, and she could hear the swish of disguarded pants drop to the floor. Her fear was back, and she felt like being sick, but again that strange calm washed over her and she felt his hands caress her back, her bottom, and then her folds.

"Turn around," he said in a deep, seductive voice. Maered turned onto her back to see Arkan, his skin bare, handsome, well-toned body intimidating in the dim light that had settled over the room. She had not seen a man like this before her who had not shown himself accidentally or who had not be attempting to hurt her, and she stared at him with wonder.

He came onto the bed and settled her in his lap, his hard, long erection resting against her leg. Maered thought to make a comment about Elidhu's and their absence of their need for "human pleasure," but stopped herself when he moved her so that his length was resting against her opening. He began to massage her again, and she found herself reaching for him. She began her ministrations clumsily, but as he increased his tempo so did she. She gasped as she felt an almost painful feeling in the deep of her stomach, and he abruptly stopped, standing up with a catlike grin.

"Pain," He said, and he was gone.

**AN: first ever lemon, so if it was horrible, just tell me. There is all sorts of different things that could have been added, but Maered is a virgin, not a seasoned who** so I didn't want to add that stuff. Anyways, it is a cliffy, so if you want more, review! **


	8. Chapter 9 Journey

**AN: Another chapter from Cadvan's POV. Sorry if the last chapter was a little bit uncomfortable, but it had to be done (the conflicting emotions and the Elidhu compulsion stuff.) In a way its kinda creepy, actually. R&R and perhaps there will be more ;)**

"Has anyone seen Maered?" Cadvan asked, rucksack slung over his shoulder. It was a beautiful day and the students stood around him, holding their horses and bags, ready to depart. It was nearing time to go, and he had not yet seen his young bard, even when he had gone to her chambers to wish her goodbye before he went to Milhol, but he supposed that it was because of her training schedule. For all he knew she was out riding or in some dusty corner of the library.

"She went with a bard earlier this morning," the young boy, Vaner said, "but I haven't seen her since." Somehow the boy annoyed Cadvan, and he just gave a curt nod. Another of Maered's friends spoke up. A little waif of a bard named Jien.

"Yes, I've never seen him before, but he wanted to talk to her."

"Oh," Cadvan said. Strange bards wanting to talk to Maered were not uncommon; many people flocked from all over Annar for their Fire Lily. Nevertheless he resolved to send a bird from Milhol that night and inquire if she had turned up.

After a quick roll-call he spurred Darsor forward and the paraded out the gates, talking and laughing as they rode. Milhol was not terribly far, and the last of the gaggle arrived with their tents and supplies near dusk the next day.

His duties as chaperone done, Cadvan went to the local rookery and attached a hastily written note on the leg of a fat dove. He let her go, and paid the birder for his service. When he went to the campsite he was impressed. Many multicolored tents stood, like a village on their own, swaying slightly in the wind, which had begun to pick up since their arrival. He was pleased to see that services were already being rendered to the citizens, with long lines before the herbs tent and the food dispensary.

Soon he was lost in his work and the volunteer bards the same. He did not notice the sky darkening or the smell of rain in the air, and when it began to pour, did not stop rushing around, helping the sick at the makeshift camp. One woman was limping, her bandaged leg oozing dark blood, and he offered her his arm as he led her to the healing tent.

"Do you know how I got this?" she asked, breath labored. Cadvan shook his head. "It was from the wars between Sharma and you people, but I'm no bard and I couldn't fix it. So it bled and bled for days."

"I am truly sorry," Cadvan replied, helping her to a chair.

"It's some magic, it is," she persisted as he turned away, "I got cut years ago when I was still young and beautiful. No one would marry this," she gestured to her bloody gash, "and it was all your fault." Cadvan knew that there would be opposition to their care; he had seen it time and time again in other villages and in the reports healers had sent to the School, but it did not help to calm him or make him any less disappointed in the treatment of the common people by the bards.

Surely someone would have fixed that affliction long ago, if they had not been cowards and servants to the dark. What type of bards were these in Milhol? Everywhere? To disregard their people and their duty to serve because of ill intent and greed?

He went to sleep pondering the question, finally dry in his tent.

He woke up the next morning when a large, tough-bodied bard named Quan called in to him.

"Cadvan?" He asked, "I have a dove from the School." _Excellent,_ thought Cadvan, it was a reply to salve the gnawing apprehension in his belly. It would say that Maered had turned up safe.

Crawling out of the tent, Cadvan saw that it was still very early in the morning and Quan and himself seemed to be the only ones awake. The bard handed the letter over and Cadvan opened it, forcing his movements to be nonchalant and measured.

He broke the hard wax seal and scanned the letter. No one had seen Maered since she disappeared with the foreigner, nor could they remember what the foreigner had even looked like. Cadvan's head swam and he clutched the letter tighter in his hand. The tidings did not bode well. Maered was a good student, she would not just miss her classes, and furthermore, the lack of a description made Cadvan suspect magic.

"Is everything well?" Quan asked, seeing Cadvan's ashen face.

"No," Cadvan croaked, "No it is not." The sudden urge to ride out and find Maered was overwhelming, and the only thing that made him stop was his bards. He could not leave the young ones, especially not in a place as perilous and Milhol, nor could he stay and let whatever had stolen Maered escape.

"Quan, get me a bird, I need to write a letter." Quan nodded and rushed away while Cadvan crouched in his pack and pulled out a quill and parchment, requesting another chaperone from the School, expressly asking for a friend from the old days, Banner, who only worked part time due to his lack of inspiration as a teacher. He would do nicely; a man with his voice and sheer size would no doubt work to command the students as much as Cadvan did with his experience. Quan returned and Cadvan set the dove free, watching as it became a pinprick in the sky.

"Cadvan," Quan said tentatively, "If you need to go back to the School, I can lead if you need until a replacement comes. People seem to like me, and I know practically everyone." Cadvan considered him.

"Will you?" He asked, "if I get two other bards to help, will you lead and make sure the group works?"

"Absolutely," Quan nodded, "who else did you have in mind?"

"Vaner and Jien, Maered's friends."

"Perfect," Quan smiled. "When they wake I will tell them." Cadvan gave him a suspicious look, concerned at the boy's integrity, but he continued to smile innocently and Cadvan turned away. He left the tent for the next chaperone, and saddled Darsor, fumbling with the girth strap in his haste. Darsor seemed to feel it, and he danced sideways when Cadvan tried to mount.

What took a caravan of people two days took Cadvan until midnight, the sky peppered and glittering with stars. He went first to Maered's room, turning over her mattress and dumping her drawers on the floor, rummaging through their contents. He found a few spare quills, broken nibs and a few of her collections from the School. A wooden horse… a jeweled mirror… and a small leather bound book.

Cadvan went for it, leafing through the pages. It turned out to be a diary, and Cadvan almost closed it for her privacy, when he saw his name mentioned. It was at the start of an early passage from a few months ago.

_Dear, (it read,)_

_I cannot think about Cadvan that way anymore. He is my teacher now, not just my friend. Yes he saved me from Arkan and all the other things that happened to us, but to rid him of my mind drives me near crazy. I don't think he notices—I hope he doesn't, how good and intelligent he is. I wish I was as quick as him, and then maybe he would think of me more like he did at the Singing, then the rules wouldn't matter. Goodnight and I will pray to the light again if it helps, Maered. _

Cadvan squinted hard at the second sentence. She had mentioned Arkan before, when she spoke in her sleep. Arkan… he thought, Arkan… _It was Arkan!_ It had to have been. Who else would have had strong enough barding to be able to confuse a whole school of them?

He left her room the way it was, save for taking a thick hide coat from her closet, and ran to his own, almost knocking over a few students going the opposite way. They called greetings to him, but he just held up his arm to show that he heard them.

All of his winter clothing came out, and he stuffed them into his pack along with his food, water, and smallclothes from the trip to Milhol. He threw Maered's coat over his shoulder and when he got to Darsor, folded it into his saddlebags.

"I thought I would find you here," a familiar voice said as he mounted. It was Banner, and he held a letter.

"You can do it then?" Cadvan asked in way of a response.

"Yes, I think so," Banner replied, the massive man folding his arms. "You leave to hunt Maered then."

Cadvan nodded. "She is my student and I promised to protect her."

"And loving her does not hurt either," Banner said directly, not bothering to cover it up.

"She is my student," Cadvan continued, "and I promised to protect her. What you suggest is frowned upon."

"Yes, but not wholly uncommon," Banner replied. "Lie to yourself all you want, Cadvan, but get gone. She might already be far away by now," and to his inquiring look, "Yes, I will leave in the morning. Ride safe and may the light be with you."

"You too," Cadvan said, sounding much more confident than the felt. He spurred Darsor on and they went thundering out into the darkness.

"I'll find you," he said to the blackness and the stars "Hold on for me. I will find you."


	9. Chapter 10 A First Defiance

Maered sat huddled in the window box of her room, her knees up to her chest and her head in her hands. Last time she had been given run of the castle; this time she enjoyed no such luxury. Gemma came and went, and she brought with her savory meats and sweet wines that turned to ash and blood in her mouth. She no longer needed the lyre to see the real castle, and she discovered that even the food was enchanted, leaving her with a continual gnawing in her stomach when she noticed the meat was raw and the wine was soured vinegar.

Arkan had not visited her since their first encounter, and Maered wondered if he wished to lure her out, to entice her to meet him in the throne room if for no other reason than to hear her beg. _Leave me,_ she wanted to scream as she felt the rough ridge of her hand, the missing fingers like ghosts of loved ones. She wanted to escape like she did as a wolf, but Arkan knew that trick now, and to repeat it would either be suicide or worse_. I am the Fire Lily,_ her mind screamed, _he cannot hurt me. I will crush him—blood of my kin I will crush him. He cannot hurt me and he cannot keep me… he cannot keep me… _

She thought about the Wight she had fought off, and wondered if the same magic would apply. What would happen if she destroyed him? Would his castle crumble and his hideous old Gemma perish in a shower of falling rock? She felt bad for Gemma and the spell she was under, but she had lost feeling for her when she had come to the school to shatter her delicate, recovering life. The scars of her old one seemed raw now, open and bleeding, and the tightness in her chest was almost unbearable. Gilman's Cot flashed before her eyes and she saw a little girl against a bale of straw, her dirty skirt hitched almost past her knees, screaming and kicking two guards away. Her pleading, terrified eyes caught Maered's for a moment and then flashed away. Maered hurried on and heard the girl wailing, her voice thin and desperate. Maered saw her mother, weak and dying… She saw the rockslide in the north and felt her lungs refuse to work when she thought she had witnessed Cadvan's death… His kiss at the Singing…

She wanted to see him again, but knew she could never. Arkan would kill him and take Maered for a bride, the pure half-Elidhu who would spawn a strange new breed of people, if it was even possible. She bit her lip and tightened her hold on her knees, her fingernails digging into the soft flesh of her legs. She had told herself that she would not cry, but she felt dangerously close. If Arkan saw her cry he would know she was scared. If he saw her smile he would know she thought about Innail. And if she pretended to love him, then what? Would he let her close enough to kill him or would he wed her and leave her in her dark cell, only beautiful if she did not look too closely?

_Abuse and manipulation_, she thought_, that is all my life has been._ _Even Cadvan once sought some end for me, and now I am once again someone's pawn; some_ man's _pawn. I will never be his pawn just as I will never marry or become servant to anyone. If I do see Cadvan again, he'd better be prepared for my choice. He made his when he drew our boundaries, and he will never love me like I loved him. Never. How could he? He kissed me once, in the moment, but only once since, and then not at all when people were about. Stolen kisses in the dark, what good are they? Who was the dead girl who keeps him from me? Was she terribly beautiful? Was she a bard who could match him? Was she as witty, wise and courageous as him? Was she as comforting, sweet and warm as him? Did her kisses linger and his skin burn when she touched him? Or did he love her from afar, just as I have done, always wishing for arms about him and the familiar head on his shoulder? _

Maered had not even noticed she was crying, and she hastily wiped the tears from her cheeks. She could tell herself that she did not love him all she wanted but now in peacetime she could deny it no longer. Older and wiser he may be, but it all failed to matter. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, and that was why she chose her path, that she could never stop loving him but it would never work, but he was a thousand leagues away in Milhol, oblivious her plight, perhaps enjoying pheasant soup with his young bards or patching up some villager. Maybe he even had his eye on someone—his beautiful, dark skinned friend Baya, back at the School? She shook her head. She would not think like that. Thinking at all was making her weak, and her mind attacked her like a plague, breaking her soul and crippling her body. As it was she was becoming thin again and she slept through the day.

She was about to crawl back into bed when she saw Gemma at the door.

"Master wants to see you," the shriveled hag said.

Maered stood and smoothed her skirts.

"Tell him I'm not interested."

**AN: Thanks for the fave/story alert subscriptions, they make me want to write! So, more of Maered and her conflicting emotions. It was a shorter chapter, I know, but I'm working on it. I might do more of Maered or some of Cadvan, but I'm not sure yet. Read and Review? **


	10. Chapter 11 The Wilds

**AN: So long, I'm sorry, it was the dreaded writers block! Ah well, started this from Maered's perspective but I got bored. Here's some Cadders to tide you over!**

Cadvan, thoroughly wet and thoroughly miserable, pressed Darsor on against the press of wind a sleet that slashed his exposed cheeks and plastered his hair to his forehead. He would not stop Darsor to sleep, and neither would his mount allow him to. It seemed Darsor wanted to save Maered as much as he did, or at least understood his master's desire to find her. His saddlebags had barely been touched, and the food he had hastily stashed away had turned soft.

_Please, Maered, hold on,_ he thought, digging his heels into Demi's flanks, almost mad with worry. Demi did not even seem to notice and plodded on, his hooves working sure-footedly against the slippery snow.

_Cadvan, _Darsor said in the Speech, _You must rest. You will not be strong enough to fight against the cold much longer. I will keep you warm, just stop. _

_ I cannot, _Cadvan replied_, What if he has hurt her? She's only a child. She has seen enough in her life, she does not need THAT creature anywhere near her. If I let him have her she will never get away. _

_ And you will never find her or know of her fate if you die, _Darsor persisted, working his way through the high drifts against some unnamed pass._ Just a moment, then we will go on. _

Cadvan, reluctantly seeing the sense in his friend's words, slowed and swung off the saddle near a barren outcrop of stones and dead shrubs. He took a mushy apple from his bag and fed it to Darsor, forcing himself to take one as well. Darsor made a face possibly like distaste, eliciting a small smile from Cadvan.

_You were the one we suggested we stop,_ he said in Speech. Darsor made an unhappy noise and his eyelids began to droop. Cadvan, taking Darsor's lead, took a thick bedroll from his pack and placed it near the inner corner of the outcrop. He then made a small magical fire with barding, and leaned against the cave wall, eyes closed but alert.

He tried to sleep, but found he could not, and in the early morning, discernible by a watery sun breaking the fog of clouds and snow, he was almost ready to leave Darsor to the safety of the pass and press on himself. He had watched his horse during the night, and noticed he had gotten thin, his ribs beginning to poke out against his flanks. It had not taken long, Cadvan reflected. It had only been a fortnight since leaving the safety of his bards in Innail, and so the signs worried him. When he tried to wake Darsor, he found the stallion sluggish and his eyes droopy.

_Time to go,_ Cadvan said, gauging Darsor's reaction closely. Darsor did not even blink. _Are you alright?_ He asked, _do you wish to stay here a little longer?_

_ No, _Darsor replied doggedly,_ I was not raised of so fine a stock to be slowed by mountains and snow. _

_If you need to stop, tell me, _Cadvan said,_ I want no heroics that get you hurt. _

_I could say the same for you, Darsor said wryly. _

Cadvan swung back up into the saddle and they picked their way across the icy mountain slope, covering little ground.

_If we continue like this we will never get there, _Cadvan found himself thinking,_ we need to make it to the forest tonight, or we will freeze. That or make it all the way to Arkan-da, which is unlikely. If the weather holds we will be there soon, at least before sundown. _

The day turned into another blizzard.

**AN: sorry it's so short but I am suffering severe writers block. Gah! If anyone has any ideas on the subject, I would love to hear them, because, unlike most prepared people, a chapter plan was not something I did. I do have to say thanks to the fav story alerts, though, they were what forced, *uhm, inspired me to write this, I simply could not leave it alone! XD Reviews make me happy and just a little more creative! **


	11. Chapter 12 The Plan

**AN: So you can get followers on fanfiction… most interesting… These new rules and format baffle, yet intrigue me. I will try to make this chapter longer, with a slightly different angle, but I'm starting to think that perhaps I should intensify the mood; add a little danger. Not sure yet, but I will stew on it.**

**Owltalon- Oops, I was worried I would do that… I have another story where the horse is Demi and I get them mixed up sometimes. Promise I will try to keep it straight :) **

Maered had begun to go stir crazy. After her initial refusal of Arkan no invitations came again. Gemma had even become scarcer, only arriving at mealtimes with plates of cold food. Without her lyre, she could not distract herself, so she resorted to singing, some songs Cadvan had taught her or ones from Dernhil's book. She was not sure yet, but was becoming fairly certain that Arkan's plan was to lure her out; to drive her so completely insane that she would claw the walls and beg to be let out. Well, Maered thought ruefully, two can play at that game.

She was not about to give up, but it became harder the longer her solitude persisted and she would often close her eyes and pretend Cadvan was with her, keeping her company in the cold of the cell-like room. She would talk to him, and imagine his answers, always so thought-out and careful. She imagined his face, and the faces of Silvia and Malgorn, and had fake conversations with them, passing the time as quickly as she dared. She imagined she had her lyre, and she strummed the air with her damaged hand, finding, to her immense pleasure, that what she imagined dropped with a soft thunk on her bed furs.

This imagination lyre did not have the same pure quality of the real thing, but it was still a pretty instrument and she played it every day after her initial discovery. It soothed her, and she began to invent songs to go with her thoughts and feelings, finding that she could play a much wider spectrum than she had expected, and could also make different, fanciful sounds with the movement of her fingers and the tautness of the strings.

She played and played, watching for the tell-tale wolf, the sign of her kin come to rescue her, but she saw no one, and soon began to despair. I am warm and safe, though, she thought, but immediately felt tainted from the notion. _No!_ She scolded herself_; I will not allow him to make me grateful for imprisonment. I cannot become soft. As long as I do I will be his prey. _

She had considered many things since her capture, but escape was her top priority. She had done it once before, and she would do it again, without the help or Ardene. One thing she was less certain of, however, was how far she was willing to go to escape. She had considered her powers when she became a wolf, and wondered if she could turn into a mouse or a cat and slink out of the castle, unnoticed and uncared for, but she knew that Arkan watched her, and to attempt such a thing would be risky, if not impossible.

She balled her fists in frustration. If she did not find her way out soon, she worried that she may never leave. The thought of marrying Arkan and winning his trust had crossed her mind, but she hoped it would not come to that and she felt her time was running out in the matter, so one night while she prepared for bed she formed a plan. She would not sleep, but instead put her night shirt over her thick winter clothes and escape that way, so that if she was caught she could claim being lost and go back to her room without repercussions. No one, save Arkan and Gemma knew what she looked like or her weight and she was counting on everyone just assuming she had gotten fat in her solitude.

Her fingers shook as she pulled up her thick woolen socks and covered them with her flimsy felt summer shoes, inadequate but passable if she covered her feet with the thick fur leggings she found in her ice dresser. She then covered her arms and chest with a long sleeved tunic, covered by three more layers of soft satin and a furry coat made of what looked like yak or some hairy animal, hoping against hope that it was not some elaborate illusion and that if she succeeded in escaping she would find herself naked and shivering in the woods, all alone save her ability to turn herself into a wolf. That thought alone kept her going, the simple thought that if she could just escape, the clothing would not matter, and she would be free.

When she had prepared herself, she took a handful of soft cheese she had been saving from mealtimes and shoved it in her pocket, a meager yet essential provision. She then opened the door and peered out into the hall. It was silent save the crackling of the torches, and she made her way along the wall as cautiously as she dared, keeping as much as she could to the shadows. She was in a different room this time, in some deep labyrinth of the castle, and so she had to search for her exit, multiplying the risks exponentially. She had little other choice, but she was determined.

After about an hour of creeping and checking, she finally found an exit through a ground floor window, large enough for her to squeeze through. She opened it to the assaulting cold, and hopped out with her furs bundled close. It was a treacherous walk in the dark, as she did not want to bring a torch for fear of being seen. She scrambled over the rocks with her sock-covered hands and slipped as she worked her way over the rocky slope. She almost lost her footing when she heard a clap of thunder and lightning ripped the sky, illuminating a terrifying scene. Stretching out before her was an almost sheer cliff face, with a narrow, darkened path leading away from the crumbling, black castle, silhouetted against the sky like some ominous crouching bird.

She scraped her hands through the socks and felt the blood, itchy and warm, through the fabric, but she continued on, making her way down the perilous slope every time the lightning would split the sky and light her way. She traveled all night, and no one bothered her, not even the wolves that prowled the forest. It seemed that Arkan did not know she was gone, and she went as far as she could with aching feet and frozen hands, until, at long last, she found a rocky outcropping on the side of a mountain out of sight of the horrid castle. She was still within his range, but barely, and she planned to sleep a few hours before continuing and hopefully regain some of her waning energy.

After only an hour or so of sleep she awoke and continued her trek, and that is when she heard Arkan's dogs.

**AN: So I finally pulled it together for a short chapter! As always, read and review. Should she get caught or should she escape?**


	12. Chapter 13 Our Hearts

Cadvan stumbled and fell. His eyes were raw and painful, the torment of the trek wringing his bones and causing his mind to blur. He was almost there, almost at the ice palace, only miles out of his icy realm. Maered swam before his eyes and he prayed, for the first time in many years, to the light to bring her back. He had cried, he had swore, he had even been sick thinking of her, and the fear he would never see her again. His heart hurt, like the rest of his body, the feeble vessel of his life, the one that he would give for another day with her.

Please Maered, be alright, he thought as he made his way to a rocky inlet, too weak to continue without a moment's rest. His beard scraped his chin as he rubbed his face, and he marveled at the sheer occurrence of the thing. Even clinging to life, the body still reminds you that you are human, and that it will continue to care for and waste energy on such trivial things as hair growth.

He slumped down and closed his eyes, his thoughts on Maered. He did not miss the noise of padded shoes though snow, or the small "oh!" that escaped her lips, but he would not make himself hope. He had run after her shadow for days, only to realize the wolf he saw was not her, or the girl was a Jussack. Only when she said, "Cadvan?" did he look up to see her.

She was dressed ridiculously, in thick fur leggings and wrapped up like some enormous furry animal, ice clinging to her coat and boots.

"Maered!" Cadvan cried, struggling to his feet. She ran into his arms and they collapsed, holding each other as if the world would crumble beneath their feet.

"Oh Cadvan!" she sobbed, clinging to his chest, her tangle of dark hair in her eyes, "I thought I would never see you again. I called for you, and you came! Look, you came!" She was laughing through her tears now, and Cadvan pulled her deeper into the cave, where they were sheltered from the worst of the elements.

Suddenly Cadvan's knees gave out and they collapsed together into the floor, still holding each other. It was relief, love and hope. It was joy, sorrow and pain. It was every emotion, and yet none at all. It was something deeper, something that touched the very core of his being and made him glad, through all the pain, the fear and the unbearable heartache, to be alive. It was the reunion he had always wanted with Ceredin but never got. It was the reunion he hoped for when he was called home to the Light.

"I missed you," he whispered into her hair, his voice sounding strained and foreign. "I missed you. Don't you ever leave me again, Maered."

Maered pulled away for a moment to look him in the eye and she smiled, her lazy morning, comforting smile; the one that made his heart leap and his mind reel with wonder.

"You have little to worry about," she replied, eyes trained on his, "I won't go anywhere. Promise." She began to sob then, and Cadvan joined her, the feeling of her, safe in his arms giving him strength to carry on.

"Alright, dearling, we must rest, and then we must go home."

Maered hugged him through the tears and nodded.

**AN: This is a short chapter, and thank you for all the reviews. I will write more I think but I thought I should write tonight. I wanted this chapter as healing for myself, as my big brother, just graduated from high school, suddenly passed to heaven in a terrible car crash on Thursday. He was my world and I wanted a little tribute, the reunion I am praying for one day. Chase I love you, and this was for you. If you wish to review I would sincerely love it, as your reviews and my writing are what are keeping me from a very dark place. Thank you. **

** Live everyday like it was your last**

** Smile when you are happy, **

** Cry when you are sad, **

** And hold your family close,**

**Love Your Happy Place. **


	13. Chapter 14 Deception and spelling

**AN: So, because of the twisted nature of my authorial mind, I have thrown a loop, and if you are really careful, you may just spot it. I always took Arkan to be a sociopath, and calculated creature, but I thought he must have had a heart to love Maered. This is OCC a bit for him, but I'm going for it. Those in favor read on, and those against PM or review. Open for changes, but like my sick mind dictates, I must be obliged to do! :) R&R Oh yah, lemon here so if you are squeamish, look away! You have been warned…**

**PS: I realized that I messed up and didn't add an "s" to the "he" in a comment. Sorry for the confusion… oops**

Her hands shook as she held his face, the now lined, handsome face of her mentor. Her protector, her rescuer.

"Maered," he whispered against her hand, his breath warm. "I will not be able to leave here. I— am weak. You must go." Maered shook her head and tears welled in her eyes.

"No, no, I won't, I cannot, Cadvan. You cannot stay here, we will be safe, I can be a wolf and carry you on my back—," she broke off when she saw the expression on his face. He had killed himself, she thought, trying to rescue her. "No," she repeated, "please no. I won't leave you. Never."

"I don't see you have much of a choice." A cold breath of air shook through the empty space, and the baying of dogs cut the still.

Maered held Cadvan closer and looked to the mouth of the cave. Arkan, equipped with nothing more than a silver staff and a large, beautiful wolf, pure and white as the palace, smiled through the drifting sleet. He looked like a cast away angel, snow drifting lazily onto his shoulders, into his hair, his blue eyes shining with something urethral, something far beyond human or indeed elemental.

"Here he is," Arkan smiled horribly, his voice flat, a confusing monotone. Maered could see he was angry though, his eyes betrayed him. "Elednor, what a poor choice."

"Leave!" Maered screamed, clutching Cadvan tightly to her chest. She tried to use magery, but he was barely moved. It was as if all she sent was a rush of cold air that fluttered his hair.

"Little bard," he scolded, "you should know better. Tut, tut." He glanced down at Cadvan, who now struggled against Maered to stand. She could see his lips moving furiously, but could not hear the spell.

"Help me," he rasped, pushing against his knees. Maered helped him up and Arkan gave him a look of cool interest.

"This is your mortal, Elednor," he smirked, "but all mortals die. You were foolish to leave, though I let you. Do you really think I would let you get away again?" Maered shook and Cadvan leaned against her for support. His eyes flashed with defiance and he shouted something. Suddenly the whole cave was ablaze with shimmering light and Maered was pushed against Cadvan as they fell. Maered blinked furiously, trying to rid herself of the starbursts that danced across her vision, and it seemed Cadvan had saved them. Almost.

When she looked back to the mouth of the cave Arkan still stood, his eyes ablaze with fury.

"You will die for that, Bard," he hissed, eyes on Cadvan, "but first you will suffer like you have never known; worse than the death of your lover, worse than the death of your limbs, your organs."

Maered felt sick and the world closed black around her. She screamed Cadvan's name, but it was too late. The creeping darkness overcame her, and she awoke on the cold stone floor of the throne room, her eyes painful and swollen from crying. Struggling to her feet, she found that she had been stripped of her thickest clothing, and she now only wore her underclothes, the flimsy chemise she had put on first, and the light pants she had covered with her fur leggings and layers of warm wool.

Arkan stood before her, smiling, his face an expression of condescension.

"So you awake, my beauty," he mocked, "How lovely you look in the light." To her questioning glare he said, "oh yes, he is alive. He has been asking for you, actually."

Maered rushed at him, her anger breaking any fear she had of him. "Where. Is. He?" she snarled, teeth barred.

"Gema will take you to him," Arkan said, "but you must eat first, be strong." Maered was about to refuse, but then a servant she had never seen arrived down the hall, looking frightened but healthy handed her a deep bowl of steaming broth, vegetables floating on the surface and a thick slice of black bread, buttered and warm. Her stomach rumbled, and she regarded Arkan with narrowed eyes.

"If I eat this you will take me to him?" she asked.

"Oh yes," Arkan replied, "I must honor my word, Elednor. But be quick, I have better things to do than see you act a wild animal at her bowl." He turned and she pushed her face to the bowl, drinking deeply. When she looked up, he was gone, and Gema stood where the servant had entered, watching her.

"Master is so very good, is he not?" she asked as Maered sopped up the soup with her bread. "He took care of the traveler, and now he is well again, better, like you got when you came to us."

"You will take me to him?" she demanded.

"Oh yes, Mistress," Gema grinned toothily. "If Milady will follow me…" she took the bowl from Maered and led her down the corridor, out of the throne room, into a confusing tangle of hallways, all lit with that unnatural, sourceless light. They stopped in front of a thick oak door, and Maered pushed her way in, eyes frantically searching for Cadvan. When her eyes fell on him, sitting on the bed, furs around him, his clothing now dry and hung up by hearth, she rushed to him, embracing him, kissing his head, his face, his nose and lips.

"You lived!" she beamed, saying between kisses, "Oh thank you!" She heard the door close behind Gema then, and knew they were alone. Cadvan caught her face with his hands and kissed her back, deepening it not in the frantic way he had at the Singing, but slowly. His tongue grazed over her lips, and she opened her mouth instinctively. The kiss moved again, and their tongues moved against each other, battling for dominance. She felt his hand on her back, and he pushed her gently to the bed, so he was over her, kissing her.

"Wait," she said breathlessly, "Not here, we can't…" Cadvan responded by cupping her face and whispering roughly against her skin, "there is no better time." He brought his mouth to hers again and moved further up on her body, straddling her. He felt her breasts through the chemise, and moved to kiss them, his hands gone from her face to under her shift. She gasped at the sensation, and arched her back as he rolled them, bringing his mouth down against the fabric. Suddenly he undid the lacing, and she was bare from the chest up, exposing herself to him. He kissed her collarbone and then between her breasts, and she began to shake. She loved him, she always would, but her fear of men made her wish to clamp her legs shut and roll away. She did not say anything, however, and almost screamed in pleasure when he nibbled her left breast, cupping the other with a gentle hand. He moved to the other, and let his hand roam down her stomach, past her navel and to the strings of her pants.

She began to truly panic then, and muttered, "Please be careful," when he slide her last offending garment past her ankles. She was now completely naked, and his fingers moved back up from her ankles to her thighs and between. She had never felt something so strange in her life, and gasped when he touched her, caressed her, and slipped a finger into her. She whimpered at the sensation, and he removed his tunic with his free hand, exposing a strong, muscled torso and deeply tanned skin. His dark hair fell into his eyes, and they were ablaze with what Maered could only understand as lust, pure and hot. She fumbled with his pants then, and he slid them off easily, revealing a large bulge in his underclothes, much bigger than the ones she had seen at Gilman's cot. There they had no manners or thoughts to hide from a slave.

_He will split me in two,_ she thought, staring at it. If she felt something when his fingers moved within her, she would scream to feel him, all of him, thrust deep into her. He took his hand away from her, and pulled down his underclothes, revealing what she had expected. He was large, not the largest she had seen, but certainly the most welcome.

He straddled her again, and she felt him brush against her, causing her to shiver. She thought she knew what was coming, but then he moved his mouth down and took her with his lips, his tongue, and his hot breath. Maered screamed then, the coil in her stomach suddenly snapped. He continued, and pushed his tongue into her, nipping and sucking at the bundle of nerves that protected her. Just as she was about to give way again, however, he pulled away and she felt him against her, slowly pushing himself within her. She squeaked with pain when he was nearly halfway, and felt the ripping of some deep part of her, followed by the feeling of blood seeping down her thigh. Cadvan waited for her to get used to him, then thrust the whole way in, slicing her like a knife. She screamed out in pain and pleasure, and he came within her, leaning against her shoulder for support. They were both panting when he rolled off her and pulled her into his arms, kissing her forehead.

"I knew it," he panted.

"Knew what?" she asked, watching him lazily.

"Knew she was too good for you." Maered was puzzled at this strange comment, but supposed he was speaking of Arkan, and soon fell asleep. When she curled away from Cadvan, he stood up and laced up his breeches. With a small smile he walked over to an empty chair and grinned down at the now-visible occupant, bound and gagged against the frame.

"How does it feel, Bard, with your love taken by another with your body?"

Cadvan looked up at Arkan with despair and fury.

**AN: graphic and creepy, perfect combo! Review and I may just continue this twisted little fiction into something really interesting. Review whore? I think not, but if you want more, I gots ta know!**


	14. Chapter 14 Gone as she Came

**AN: sorry for the long break, school starting up and stuff is hard… well anyways, on with the show! Oh and review if you want this to continue, thinking of axing it maybe… so review. Most votes win**

To open his eyes burned. To close them would be to see them dancing over his lids and through his pupils, attacking him with frenzied fervor. To see Maered deceived by Arkan made his mind reel. To sleep gave him horrid dreams. In short, he was a slave, body and soul to his consciousness. Why he could not warn her, call out through his magery he did not know. Arkan should have been weaker when Cadvan felt strong but he wasn't. He stood over like a tower, horrible and unmovable, just as the mountains or the marbled, craggy shore. Perhaps it was the Elidhu in Maered that was so taken by the lie, that small part that refused to let him save her.

Days, and then weeks went by, and Cadvan was forced to sit in silence observing her in her routine, everything he once craved to know about her, but suddenly made him feel like a perilous intruder. In another life he would have marveled to see her body as she dressed for sleep, or when her robe fell to the floor as she prepared to bathe, but he would not look, he forced his eyes away, his skin burning for her touch.

He was being cared for, aye, with the thin broth and hard bread curls by that hateful Gema, but only when Maered had been called away to see the WInterking. She did not even know he sat, bound on the other side of her bed, cast in the corner like some ominous gargoyle, useless to stop her deception. Arkan was clever, but he had to possess some weakness, some way to be tricked.

Once Maered had walked around his way and he yelled out for her, but she had barely noticed, looking around only once before the enchantment swallowed his voice.

After many weeks of this, his chance finally arrived. Maered was sitting quietly on her bed, her beautiful raven's hair bound in crystal pins, when she began to sob. She cried for a time, then, with her injured hand, conjured up something from the air. With a shock of recognition Cadvan saw that it was a perfect replica of her lyre, and when her fingers touched it, they became whole, long and white and delicate. She began to play, and the room shimmered and shifted, the beautiful white walls suddenly dark and black with age, her candle the only light in the cell like room. She looked up as if she had been expecting to see someone, and bent her head back down to strum a few more chords. Cadvan listened to her play, and stared at her statue-like beauty in the half-light. She was never more beautiful or as sad.

Without thinking, and knowing she could not hear him he sighed and said, "You play better than the Great Players of Pellinor."

Maered's hands stilled and her head shot up, fingers poised above the lyre. Did she hear him? He called out to her and she stood, forgetting her lyre when she dropped it on the bed. At once the room was again dazzling white and cold. He was invisible to her once more.

She sighed and lay down on the bed, the lyre disappearing with a little breath of air. She looked troubled, but did not play again.

The one day she did again was after Arkan posing as Cadvan had dismissed her coolly, and the hurt shone bright in her eyes. She waited for him to be gone, and brought forth the lyre, which she strummed a familiar old song.

"I am the dew on every hill," the room darkened, "I am the leap in every womb,"

"Maered," she stopped but the room remained dark, not yet changed.

"Who goes there?" she asked.

"You can hear me?" A look of apprehension crossed her face. She was confused, not frightened.

"Show yourself," she demanded.

"Come here, make haste Maered, I am in the shadow, here by the bed." Maered did not move and her eyebrows pulled together in suspicion. "Before the enchantment breaks, please. Unbind me. It is I Cadvan." Something in the urgency of his hoarse, disused voice seemed to move her, and she groped her way along the wall until her fingers met the chair, then warm skin. She gasped, and felt along the chair for his bindings, which she undid through feel alone. Arms freed, Cadvan worked on his ankles, red and sore from the tight binding and stood painfully to his feet. Every muscle and bone screamed in protest, but he let Maered guide him back into the light.

When their eyes met she looked faint.

"It is you." Was all she said, her face for the first time fearful and white. He knew comprehension would come, but he let the shock wash over her, protecting her.

"We must go now," Cadvan told her. "If the lyre is not played they will not see me, so, in search of me they will forget about you, and we can escape. I will find warm clothing and meet you back here before dark. Pretend you know nothing." Maered nodded and the spell of the lyre broke off, the dark stone melding into white splendor.

Cadvan dashed out the door and down the hall, the servants oblivious to him as he raced. He found a store of thick winter clothing, boots, hats and furry suits, and piled them up in his arms. Now he had to be careful, for if someone noticed a floating pile of clothing the alarm would surely be risen. He slunk in and out of the shadows, and, upon passing a mirror at the end of an obscure corridor he found he could not see himself or the clothing piled high. This alone allowed him to make unusual haste, though the bell for his escape had already tolled, and servants rushed past him in a dutiful frenzy.

He reached Maered's chambers, and helped her into the furry suit and coat and found that she had stored her last meal in the folds of her skirt. She could not see him, but could feel him, and when he took her hand they passed by a mirror. Smiling, he was pleased that she too, was no invisible. He let her go, and she swam back into view, covering in her wool and animal fur, and he retook her fingers in his. The pair rushed away down the hall, Maered leading this time, and were soon at the arch leading to the outside. Arkan's hounds bayed restlessly at the whiteness, but did not attack them as they dashed through the arch and out into the darkness, the stars glittered across the snow and the moon casting long beams on the silent ground. For once it was not snowing, and the night was starkly beautiful. Still holding Maered's hand, Cadvan ran into the trees where they continued on, with switchback after switchback to confuse their pursuers. They reached the border of Arkan's territory by roughly an hour before noon the next day, and found Demi in a small Jussack village. They had cared well for him, and without trouble they mounted and spurred him south, back to home.

Maered rarely spoke on the first part of the journey, and when he tried to hug her reassuringly she shrunk away, oddly cold and isolated. Cadvan associated this to her encounter with Arkan, but began to worry as, time after time, she refused his affection, and removed herself further from his company.

When questioned about her behavior she would not look at him, and said in a small voice. "Cadvan, please try to understand, I was… used, and though it was not you it looked like you and now…"

"Now you do not want my company because it reminds you of what he did," Cadvan finished for her. She gulped and nodded, refusing to meet his eye for the blush that burned her cheeks.

"Yes!" she said, eyes hopeful, "and now, when you touch me, I think of him, and it makes me feel ill." Cadvan was silent. He knew she did not mean to say his touch made her sick, but it did not stop the fall that echoed from his brain to his heart. Now he would truly never have her. He would remain her mentor and she would never allow him to perform even the simple action of a hug.

"I understand," he replied, stomach suddenly cold, making himself respect her choice, and not to hate the man that did have her. "Speak no more of this. No one has to know, and your name will remain pure." Maered smiled her dazzling smile and clasped her hands.

"You are too good to me," she said, taking an apple from the saddlebag beside Demi. "I must sleep now, though, that secret has been eating me." Cadvan nodded, and, without willing it, felt his eyes burn with tears when she could not see. He had waiting on his pride and care for her, and now he had lost her.

They arrived in Innail two weeks later, and was greeted by, of all people, a sick looking Vaner who stood at the town wall, eyes cast beyond. When he saw Maered ride up he ran to her and pulled her off her saddle and into his arms. She let out a cry of surprised delight, and he kissed her full on the mouth. To Cadvan's complete shock, she did not resist, and he led her away back to the School, leaving Demi and Cadvan to stare after them.

_I lost her_, Cadvan muttered in the Speech. Darsor tossed his head and replied,

_Do not give up, old friend. You cannot so easily undo years of friendship for younger blood._

Cadvan did not reply, and unsaddled in silence, heart painful in his chest.


	15. Chapter 15 Her

**AN: Cadvan POV again... Warning for angst and more Maered/ Vaner. Sorry about the long wait, I thought people had lost interest. Oh plus, saw Skyfall last night, so this might have some kind of "Bond" theme in in, or at least Skyfall by Adele. R&R**

Vaner and Maered, since her return to the School, had been closer than ever. Cadvan gave her the lessons in the afternoon, and Vaner, often surrounded by their friends, would arrive to sweep Maered away. He looked at her and Cadvan knew; he was in love.

Maered, it seemed, did not know, and when Cadvan made an off handed remark one day when he was teaching Maered the Song of Ialda and Stern, a tragic love story of a man who loved a woman who was an Elidhu so could not love him back, Maered blushed and shook her head.

"I do not think Vaner thinks that way," she said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. _He does, _Cadvan thought traitorously, _and so do I._ To be with her and teach her was becoming an increasing mental strain. He could not look at her beautiful face, framed by that curtain of black hair and not imagine her breasts, the way she looked in that sourceless light no matter how hard he tried to forget. While Vaner fell more and more in love with her so did Cadvan, and at night he was haunted by her words, her rejection of him. He tossed and some nights when he could not bear the feeling of emptiness in his stomach he would walk down the corridor and along the river, where, if it was dark enough and the banks silent, splash the water on his face and stare out across its dim expanse, imagining what it would be like to drown there, silently, peacefully, without seeing her again or having to pretend he didn't love her.

In his dreams he saw Ceredin, and wept as she held him, her forgotten jasmine and cloves scent filling his nose and clinging to his clothes. She never asked him anything, but he told her, and, feeling like a traitor to her, his heart broke again. He loved Maered like he loved her, and the knowledge, the knowledge that that rare love, the one people find once and then lose, had come to him, and like the fool he was, he had never told him how he felt before it was too late.

Maered noticed the bags under his eyes and his withdrawal from the School, Cadvan was sure of it, but she could not be more than a little concerned, for he still worked with the Council, still smiled and taught, but his eyes were vacant, and the difference, ever present but hard to diagnose, clung to him like Ceredin's scent in his dreams.

He also took up riding dangerously through the woods surrounding Innail, reckless abandon in every fibre of his being. He jumped, he fell, he waded into the river when he was alone, and he could not look at his reflection, fearing that to look into the water or the mirror would reflect him as he was, no better than a Hull, someone who was selfish and afraid, someone who could not be happy for the girl he loved, or respect the man she loved.

On one of these occasions, he fell from Demi and sprained his ankle, cutting his thigh and knee rather badly. Blood welled like a spring through his breeches and he wiped it away in the river. The water ran red, and he rode back to the School, ignoring the burning in his ankle and the feeling of blood hardening against his skin. Thankfully no one saw him as he made his way back to his chambers, but when he arrived there he collapsed onto his bed, wincing as he peeled off his breaches.

His leg had begun to bleed again, and he held a bed sheet against the wounds, sure that he could discard them later in the hearth. He had been so engrossed in his pain that he did not think of Maered and her lessons, and she came in when he held the sheet to his leg, his hair down around his face and loose smallclothes about his waist.

"Cadvan!" She cried when she saw the blood, "What happened?" Before he could reply she was at his side and took the cloth from his hands, compressing the worst of the cut.

"I fell off my horse," Cadvan supplied lamely. She gave him a queer look. She knew he was an excellent rider, and to lose his seat on a horse like Darsor was a near impossibility.

"Cadvan please," she pressed him, "I know something is wrong. You have not been yourself since... since we went away. I'm worried."

"Don't be, Maered," Cadvan evaded, "It is I who should worry for you. I have not so much as asked you of your health since we came home."

"Oh stop," she said, shaking her head. "You know I am fine, stop being so noble. I may be young but I'm not foolish. Stop playing me. I couldn't place what was wrong with you in these last days, and I cannot guess to know, but whatever it is you can tell me." Cadvan kept the anguished expression from his face and shook his head. He would never tell her, never.

"I am fine Maered, just a little reckless. I will heal. You should get back to things that matter; your studies for instance. Since you and Vaner have been together they have been suffering. I don't want to read 'The Ballad of Greenwich' again." At this Maered coloured and her eyes ran inexplicably downward, to his thin tunic and then back to her hands, still against his knee. She nodded and ripped some cloth strips off of the bed linens, winding them tightly around his leg to compress and bandage it against the outside.

She stood then, and looked at him from the door.

"I'm worried, don't let me lose you." She dropped her eyes and closed the door.

Cadvan was left sitting on his bed, staring after her. What did she mean? They were friends and they had almost lost each other before, but what would it matter now? Maered was happy now, and she would never lose him. Like Stern he couldn't leave her, and like Stern he would die to protect her.

"Why?" He asked the vacant room. "Why?"


	16. Chapter 16 Nothing Personal

**Cadvan POV again... sorry I'm enjoying this maybe a little too much :P **

**R&R, tell me what you think! (Cadvan is supposed to be wise so I don't want to make him "the angsty boy in love," but love devolves people, so I dunno. **

Cadvan stood alone on the hill, overlooking Innail. Little wisps of smoke curled from the chimneys and the air smelled of pine and snow. It was winter, and Cadvan had survived. His leg had healed, but no one knew he had been hurt. Well, no one except Maered, and she had not told anyone.

She was deeper than ever with Vaner, and it was clear from his stance and her smiles that he intended to marry her. Cadvan dug his hands into his coat pockets, strangling the life of of the lining, making his fingers burn as they curled against his palms.

He still played his part, and she hers, but he could feel his resolve wavering. He could not do it for very much longer, but he could not leave her. If something happened while he was away... he could never forgive himself.

Though he had been at the school for years, he did not have many friends, partly due to his being a private man, but also because he was never there, always travelling. The sedentary life did not suit him, and he longed to travel again, feel horseflesh under his legs, and sleep under the stars, staring and pointing out the constellations. He did not want to tell anyone, but he felt more alive with the wild than he did with the cultured, proper people of Innail. Even Maered could not keep him from missing the grass, the woods, the rivers and the smell of a forest after the rain.

Shaking his head he walked along the ridge and sighed, his breath twisting in the chilly air. As a child he used to pretend he was smoking a pipe like his father used to, and still he felt a little pleasure in watching his breath mist in the air and disappear into the sky.

_Properly screwed,_ he thought, remembering his conversation with Yellani weeks earlier. _I am properly screwed. _

He had begun to write again, and his poetry was his only respite other than riding or walking. It had become dark and hostile, and when he taught his class they often seemed surprised at the sarcasm and derision towards them and their work.

Vaner was in his class now, and he hated the boy. He would never admit it, but he was jealous. Everything he had wanted- had, was in that boy. Youth, intelligence, looks and... Maered. He had had her too once, after the Singing, but no longer. When the boy spoke he scoffed, when he wrote, Cadvan, doing his best to be fair, promptly gave his paper whatever grade the last person got.

He was being childish, and he scolded himself for it, but no matter how much he treated Vaner with distaste and coldness, the boy would not be deterred. Maered, in their class one day even mentioned that Vaner said Cadvan's was his favourite class. _Oh yes_, Maered had said, _Vaner just_ loves t_he deeper approach to poetry and the examination of hardships on literature_. _Cadvan marks hard_, he said, _but it makes me a better writer!_

_ "Oh by the Light," _Cadvan had muttered, but Maered had not heard.

Then, after the first snowfall, Maered had come to him with a confession.

They had been sitting alone together in his study with copies of "Barding, A History," when she had abruptly looked up and blushed.

Cadvan had asked what was wrong, and she had smiled.

"I think I'm in love," she replied. "And I think Vaner wants to marry me."

"Oh," Cadvan deadpanned, making his face expressionless. "That is wonderful Maered."

"I know," she said, "but I wanted to talk to you first. I said I 'think' I'm in love. I wanted to ask you to be sure."

"Me?" Cadvan asked stupidly, then realized what she was saying.

"Yes, you are my mentor and we've known each other for long enough. What does love feel like?"

"Maered," Cadvan shook his head, "Its not a feeling. Its a knowledge that you cannot live without something, that without them you could not breathe or see or act without them. Its not something I can tell you, you have to know and be sure. If I could be of more help I would."

Maered looked stunned for a moment, then clapped her hands together and grinned.

"Thank you!" she said, "I knew it! I knew I was in love with him!"

"Then why did you ask?" Cadvan could not stop the reply that came tumbling to his lips.

Maered shook her head and her brow furrowed.

"Its because I thought..." she trailed off.

"Thought what?" Cadvan gave her a serious look.

"Oh never mind, I just thought that I wasn't sure about my feelings because I..." this time she did not continue and Cadvan did not ask. He could see the conflict in her eyes, and when she lifted them to meet his he saw something that confused him. Her eyes reflected something, something he had not seen in a long time. It was uncertainty... and if he was correct... desire. It did not make sense.

"Whatever it is Maered," Cadvan filled the silence, "I believe that the- Vaner, likes you very much. He is a," he gulped, "a very intelligent boy, and ambitious. He would make you a good husband."

"You think so?" Maered asked, hopeful. She always took his word as law, and he felt bad for deceiving her.

"Yes," he said.

The sound of someone coming over the ridge broke him from his memories.

"Cadvan," a man in a weathered riding cloak said, swinging down off his horse, "I have news."

"Speak it then," Cadvan looked away, out onto the village.

"We have found more of them."

"Where?" Cadvan replied dispassionately.

"Two in Innail, three in Ettinor, and four more living in Norloch."

"Names?" Cadvan asked, turning to face the man.

"In Ettinor there is Bailan, Hanna, and Kap. In Norloch there is Pia, Jae, Sorren and Gabri. Here there is Jien Banda and Vaner Wren."

Cadvan's face was expressionless.

"Then we must take care of them. You take Ettinor, tell Uri to go to Norloch and I will take Innail."

"Wouldn't you want to take care of Gabri yourself?" the man asked.

"Yes, I suppose," Cadvan replied, "but I cannot go. These things must be done all on the same night. If they know we are after them, they will take to ground. They must have no warning."

The man nodded. "Anything you want to tell Uri, a message for Gabri perhaps?"

"Tell Gabri things could have been different."

The man nodded and remounted his horse. "The same day then? At the festival of Spring?"

"Aye," Cadvan nodded. "Be ready."

**AN: So cliffy! I'm upping the ante, review if you want to know what the heck is going on!**


	17. Chapter 17 Pawns

**AN: Oh, so bad. So so evil. Also, those names mentioned before are not ones that have ever been mentioned, save Vaner and Jien. They are pawns...**

Spring is coming, Maered thought happily as she and Vaner walked along the river, hand in hand. The Festival of Spring would soon be upon them, and Maered smiled to think that their engagement would be announced then, publicly declaring their love. After Maered had spoken to Cadvan she had known. Her doubts about him, and her desire for him had been pushed to the back of her mind, and now all that mattered was her soon-to-be fiance.

"Maered, love," Vaner took her hand, "I will be away for a couple of days. I have a friend in Ettinor I must meet."

"Ettinor?" Maered asked, "I never knew you had friends there."

"Yes," Vaner replied a little ruefully, "I have not seen him in a while, and I wanted to tell him about our impending engagement. I want him to be here for the festival."

"Why do you not send a letter?" Maered looked up into his clear blue eyes.

"I wish to do this in person, love," he replied, using his free hand to wipe a stray strand of hair from her eyes. "It is not everyday that I marry the love of my life." Maered blushed and leaned up on her toes to kiss him.

"What is this friends name?" she asked.

Vaner kissed her and smiled.

"Bailan. He is almost like family to me."

"Oh, good then," Maered said, "One more person to celebrate spring with!"

"Indeed," Vaner nodded. "Indeed."

...

Vaner knew something was wrong. More wrong than Cadvan being in love with his fiancee, that was. His Writing Master had not been seen for more than a week, and Maered had told him that he went away to Norloch. Norloch. Cadvan must have known about the others, but why go to Norloch? It could not be a purely social visit. His old mentor was not there, and he had no friends among the new Council.

Cadvan would not know of the plan; of the Spring Overthrow, like he did. He would not know that the engagement of Maered to Vaner would be the catalyst to the Revolution. Cadvan was right to hate him, Vaner grinned. There was something in that old bag of bones that was able to tell.

Maered did not know about his plans, but to say she was a pawn was distasteful. Vaner was sure that when she saw what he could give her, and the power they could harness she would be sympathetic to the cause. He was sure she would agree with him, or he would make her.

They were all over Annar, those who worked for the cause. They spanned from the Suderain to Arkan-da and past that, onto the islands and major strongholds. More than seven thousand were placed in the South alone, but the keystones were Bailan, Hanna and himself. The others were big players, but they could not be trusted. If they had been able to switch sides to quickly spy so frequently, they could just as easily turn and never be seen again.

It was a game, really. Vaner played it for his own ends, and Bailan played it for power. Hanna knew why Vaner played, but she would tell no one.

"Hanna, Hanna, so trustful," he said to the empty air. Hanna would not kill Cadvan, though. It was the sweetener to the deal; when the world was thrown into chaos he would slip in and finish his rival. Who was to say Cadvan wasn't killed in the crush? The bedlam that would ensue? He had enemies, it must have been one of them. Vaner guilty? Hardly. Maered would be his alibi. He would make her help him. She would not have a choice.

"Spring, my love, Spring is coming," he sang the refrains of an old song, "And when the snow is gone and the leaves are full, I shall deliver you."


	18. Chapter 18 Revelations

Norloch was nice in the winter. Not as scenic as Innail, of course, but nice all the same, with its simple people and bards going about their business, hopelessly ignorant of the delicacy of their world.

Cadvan shook his head and watched a man among the crowd, his face only partially visible over his high collared cloak. His curly blond hair bobbed as he made his way along the street, and Cadvan could see his hands stuffed deeply within his pockets. He was holding something, and walking fast.

There was a woman, her light red hair loose and floating about her face. She was leaning against a pillar by a vegetable stall. Pia watched the blond man pass her and whistled, long and low, as if admiring him.

The man grinned slightly, and she followed him into a nearby tavern. Shortly after that another, a stupid mistake. Jae, black haired, and black hearted, moved from the shadows and ducked under the arch into the tavern.

Cadvan stayed where he was, hidden by a high stone pillar, and watched as, one by one, they dispersed an hour later, going in separate directions. Cadvan sucked in his breath and strode away, towards house in the heart of the village. When he arrived he picked the lock, and made himself comfortable.

Soon after he heard someone come in, and heard their exclamation when they realized the door had been picked. Gabri, all blond curls and blue eyes, met his own with a slight curve of his lip.

"I've been waiting for you," he said, "I was disappointed when you never came."

"I did mean to see you," Cadvan stood, pretending to be examining a painting on the wall. "You kept it," he remarked.

"Why would I not?" Gabri replied in a conversational tone, "she was my mother also." Cadvan scrutinized his half-brother, the oldest, the outcast. His own father had died and left his wife with a baby. She had remarried Cadvan's father, but he was never accepted, never mentioned. He was a bard, but it made little difference. Cadvan was always their mother's prize, their father's pride, and the object of Gabri's hatred. "Why did you come?"

"I wanted to talk to you. You don't have to do this. This is my last plea."

"I don't need you, or your pleas," Gabri scoffed. "I enjoy what I'm doing. Love it, in fact. It's finally something I can be proud of—its also the one thing that will kill you. Isn't it funny? All that "Daddy loves me best," lark? Now it doesn't matter."

"Gabri... I..." Cadvan made his voice sad. "I came because... because I heard you were doing badly. I heard you had gotten into trouble with the Roses." Gabri's eyebrows rose into his hair.

"My drug habit?" You are here about that." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Cadvan said uncertainly, "why else would I be here?"

Gabri looked surprised, and his face relaxed. Cadvan noted this and knew that his half-brother was at least partially taken by his lie. He knew everything he needed to.

"I stopped."

"I can see the red rings on your skin, just by your chin."

"Old," Gabri lied. "but why would you care? Become sentimental after all these years?"

"I have always cared," Cadvan replied tiredly, as if explaining something to a child. "You always shunned me because of mother and father. Now they're dead, and there should be no rivalry left." Gabri laughed.

"Thank you for your concern. Goodbye brother." Cadvan stood and walked close to Gabri. Suddenly he pulled down the collar of his half-brother's cloak. His skin was dotted with the marks of an addict. Some were fresh, and the skin there was raised slightly, indicating recent use. He was not taking it for escape, though, Cadvan knew, and his use was just making him more dangerous.

"You have to stop this," Cadvan looked into his blue eyes, "I don't want to bury you."

"Oh you have it wrong," Gabri sneered. "It is I who will bury you."

A chill went up Cadvan's spine, and he left, resisting the urge to throw the mission and kill his half-brother with his bare hands.

He went to Pia next, and he found her at home, writing by the light of a solitary candle. She would be the only other one he would meet. They would think that they had him, and that he wouldn't be a threat.

"I missed you," Pia said, not looking up. "I wanted you so _badly_ when you left."

Cadvan came to her shoulder and put his hand on the side of her neck.

"I missed you too," he purred, "I couldn't come this way and not see you." Pia turned around and his hand moved to her face. She stood up and stepped close.

"I've been bad," she murmured, playing with his collar, nipping along his neck. "I'm in deep now, and I won't tell you anything. You see, I've fallen in love and I won't betray him."

"Are you not betraying him now?" Cadvan said breathily, slipping her shawl off his shoulders.

"This is different," she looked into his eyes as she pulled his tunic over his head.

"How?"

She didn't answer, but pulled him towards her and onto the floor.

"How?"

Again she refused to answer, and kissed him deeply, almost fogging his brain enough to escape him. He looked at her, all red curls and bright lips, and pinned her to the floor. He wasn't playing any longer.

"How is this not betrayal?" He asked.

Pia's eyes grew hard, calculating.

"Because, he asked me to do this." Cadvan felt sick, but did not move.

"Who?"

"Oh you bore me, so many questions," she simpered.

"Who was it?" He pressed closer to her, hands tightening on her wrists.

"Gabri of course." She licked her lips and arched her back so their bodies touched. Her mind was so cool, but her skin was so warm. Cadvan decided to forget his honour. He would have her. He would not stand down.

He kissed her again, and she made a little noise against his lips, halfway between a snarl and a laugh.

"He said you would back down," she said, "I see he was wrong."

...

Maered, alone for the night, wandered to Cadvan's chambers, not sure why but determined to be closer to him; to smell his scent and see what he saw.

She opened his door, which was always unlocked, and sat on his bed. She could see the remnants of a fire in the hearth and lit one herself. She poured herself a glass of wine, and watched as the wood was engulfed as she lay on his bed. It smelled like him; like snow and horses, and soap.

She rolled over to be on her back, and felt something digging into her side. She moved to pick it up, and found it was a small leather notebook. Curious, she opened it and read. It was a list of names and addresses, including Vaner and Jein's. She flipped through the book, and read, to her horror, the name "Spring Festival." After that it was a rough drawing with a man hung high on a gallows. The caption was, "The Boy." Maered dropped her glass and stifled her scream.

**AN: R&R. Not giving anything away this time**


	19. Hard to Explain, Impossible to Forget

**AN: this chapter is based on the song "Silence" by Lucia. It is beautiful and kind of explains what this whole thing is. **

Maered clutched her stomach. She heaved and her eyes widened with fear. Cadvan could not do that. He wouldn't. She had to tell Vaner, show him the notebook. Why did Cadvan want to ruin her life, when he had never been anything but kind to her? Was he jealous? Did he harbour a deeper resentment than she had thought?

Her mind swirled as she fumbled to hide the book, and squeaked with fear when she looked up to see Cadvan leaned against the door frame, face cool, but hard.

"You found it," it was not a question. Maered looked into his grey eyes, reflected black in the dark, and was afraid. She had never been scared of him before, not since Gilman's cot, but now she was shaking, and he did not move. She tried to speak, but nothing would come out.

"I suppose I should explain." Maered nodded and gulped painfully. Her throat had grown paper-dry and she mentally chastised herself. He would not hurt her, why should he? He had always been there for her, not against her.

"There is dissension within Annar. There are some who plan to take over now that there is a power gap. They must be stopped." Maered searched his eyes, but he gave nothing away. She cast her eyes down, over his worn riding leathers, his felt tunic, and to his hands, large and marked—hands that could kill. He noticed her gaze, and his voice softened. "Maered, you must understand, I would not do anything to hurt you if it was not necessary. I know you love Vaner..." Maered noticed the pained flicker in his eyes when he said it.

"Then don't kill him," she shot back, "Please, I'm begging you. Don't do it."

"I have no choice," Cadvan shook his head sadly.

"There is always a choice," Maered persisted. "If you don't agree to save him, then..." she twisted her ring and squared her jaw. There was a foreign challenge in Cadvan's eyes. "I will have to tell him."

Cadvan shook his head and suddenly he looked old; older than she had ever seen him, but instead of making him look like an old man, not yet stooped, he looked more handsome, traitorously more attractive.

"I have thought about this," Cadvan said, closing the door and coming to sit in the chair beside the bed, "and I have made arrangements. If he agrees to leave the Cause, he will be spared. You will not have to lose him, but he will never be accepted within Innail again."

"So death or banishment?" Maered's voice grew. "I will have to leave Innail and Silvia and my friends?" Her eyes become vacant, and then she stood, shouting. "And the other name, Jein? What will you do to her?"

"She has the same options," Cadvan replied flatly.

Maered, now standing above Cadvan, took his shoulders, something she had never done, and shook him.

"I will not use barding on you," she said, "But it doesn't mean I can't hurt you. I'm half-elidhu remember?"

"No you won't," Cadvan smiled sadly. "I know you Maered. You won't."

"Who says?" She cried, "You want to kill my fiance, the _only man I have ever loved!_" She lied when she said this, and saw the spark of carefully concealed hurt in his eyes.

Cadvan stood and put his hands on her arms, still on his shoulders. Carefully he let them fall to the ground.

"I wouldn't hurt you," He said, "Anything I have ever done is for you. If the Cause wins then the Singing, everything, will be undone. Sharma is dead, but his followers are not." Maered's upper lip quivered, and she cast her eyes to the ground.

"You will not kill them?"

"Not if it is not necessary," he replied. "You must tell no one."

Maered nodded, though she did not know why. She turned to go, and was at the door when Cadvan spoke.

"I never wanted this," he said. "I would have stopped it if I knew."

Maered looked back. It was her mistake. He must not have thought she would.

His face was lined and pale, and he looked sick.

She had to leave.

But she couldn't

...But she had to

...But she couldn't.

She crossed the floor and took him in her arms, giving comfort to the one who was supposed to comfort her, the one who would destroy her life. He hugged her back, and, from sheer frustration, cried until she was weak. When the sobs finally slowed to a stop, he kissed her hair, and let her go.

"You can tell no one," he breathed. She nodded and quit the room, wiping her eyes with her hand.

**AN: OK, so bit of a dilemma. Does Maered break and tell Vaner? Or does she keep Cadvan's promise because of her loyalty? Does she realize how deeply Cadvan is in love with her, or does she remain faithful to Vaner? What does this all mean? Oh... writers block! Need... Reviews... :O**


	20. Chapter 20 Midnight Trechery

**AN: Muahahaha I'm going all "Battle Royale" on this story! Brace yourselves! **

**Oh, side note;**

**Eleve- Thank you for the lovely review. I don't mind, as long as one person wants to read I want to write :) **

**So, without further ado, here is the next chapter**

The Festival of Spring was days away, and Cadvan had noticed a decided change in his young charge. Maered had taken on a stony expression, hard lip, and in public, an air of forced civility. Cadvan knew she was struggling with her promise to him, and it hurt that she would retreat so deeply within herself in order to cope with the impending doom of her betrothed.

He himself had been withdrawn and sullen, his real emotions hidden under a mask of civility. He had not been sleeping, and people came daily with news of the Cause. They came on the lie that they were there for the festival, but they were to be the riot control, the soldiers should things turn sour.

Cadvan ran his finger along the edge of his blade, usually concealed within his shirt sleeve. Blood beaded up on the silver, and he drew his mouth into a hard line. If the poison did not work the blade would do.

He knew Jien would have to die first. He knew it would be poison that he would give her, that it would be mixed with her makeup, and that it would take nine minutes for her to die, enough time to find Vaner and finish the job.

He knew that she would be with Maered all that morning, and that she would put on large amounts of the tainted mix as she was a performer in the celebration. She would not make it to the stage.

He had expected to feel fear, loss, satisfaction, something, but he did not. He felt nothing as he contemplated ending these young bard's lives. This fact concerned him, but instead of going back to analyze his own feelings, or lack thereof, he ignored them and went on, teaching, and being noxiously pleasant to Vaner. The boy had a habit of chewing on the nib of his pen, and Cadvan observed that even poisoned ink would even do, but, out of vanity and his own personal sadism, he wanted to see Vaner suffer, for the boy to know who had done that to him. No, poisoning the ink would be boring, and besides, that would mean that he would have to perish within the day, and Jien would run. That could not happen. She could not run or communicate the leak.

He shut his eyes against the dim candle in his study, fighting his old tendencies. He would not go back, he would feel something for those traitorous children some day... _wouldn't he?_

Giving up for a moment, he lay the dagger down on his bedside table and stared at the ceiling. Sleep would come, but for the moment he was worried. Maered would not betray him, but she could, out of fear, let something slip and then it would be over. There would be war and barding would again become dangerous. That could not happen.

He was not an imbecile, he knew the risks, and he knew how it must happen. Precise, calculated. Perfect.

"Two days," he said aloud, "Two days."

**AN: so here's more. If you want to suggest anything feel free. I'm open to suggestion, but things are going to get intense. R&R**


	21. Chapter 21 The Contest of Affection

Cadvan walked along the hall, one hand on his dagger and the other on the poison. The night had come, and he could feel the anticipation, like cold water, rushing through his veins. He was prepared to do anything—he knew it was for Maered. She would understand.

No one gave him trouble, and he slipped in and out silently, pouring the powdered wolfs-bane infused with lethal magic into Jien's box. He shook the container to mix the deadly makeup, and left, unseen. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, for someone could use the powder and die as well, but it was a risk he was willing to take.

Cadvan threw the vial into the bushes in the courtyard, and when confronted with other teachers and bards, was forced to smile and assume that false air of comfort, the one he used with Maered. He knew where to find Vaner and Maered, but knew that, for the assassination to work, the two victims must not know about each others fate. That was the challenge, and that was the thrill.

Cadvan met Maered in the street outside the School, and her anxious expression confirmed what he had already knew; that the world would come crashing down if it was not done right.

"I could do it," she whispered, walking alongside Cadvan, her black hair floating about her.

"No," Cadvan shook his head, "I won't let you. This is for me and me alone. You will not bloody your hands,"

"Why not?" she argued, "you think I couldn't do it."

"Yes," Cadvan stated bluntly. "Please, just play your part, and I'll play mine. All will be well, Maered. Please believe me." Maered looked into his eyes and leaned up to kiss him for the first time since before Arkan. Their lips met for the barest of moments, and Cadvan closed his eyes.

"I will be back for you," he whispered into her hair. "I love you."

...

Vaner brandished his stiletto, and with a wicked grin imagined how it would feel as he plunged it into Cadvan's back, how it would sound. He had been walking along the corridor when he saw Maered kiss Cadvan, and knew that he had been betrayed. They knew.

His first impulse was to warn Jien, but then another thought came to mind. If Cadvan wanted to play, he would oblige him. Killing Jien would have to be clever, and Vaner knew Cadvan possessed not the resources to hire an assassin, so the death keel would have to be delivered in something mundane; a poison perhaps. He knew Maered was not a pawn, but with sadistic excitement decided to join her into the game. If Cadvan did kill him, which was unlikely, neither man would have Maered. She would be long dead.

"Maered," Vaner said when he caught up with her in the square, "Dear, they are missing a dancer for the celebration. Would you fill in for her?"

Maered looked pleased and she blushed. "You know I don't dance," she replied modestly.

"Oh no," Vaner insisted, "I have seen you dance plenty of times. You always wanted to be a part of this, and you know all the steps."

"Well..." Maered cast her eyes to her feet,

"Do it," Vaner said a little forcefully, "Do it so I can show my new wife. You will be the talk of the Vale. Please, darling."

"Fine!" Maered said, "I'll go meet Jien."

...

Jien knew something was amiss, she always did, but when she put on her powder before the big performance, her nerves were too tightly bound to register the faint smell, or the small smudge along the edge of her tin.

When Maered came into the dressing room, smiling like a child, Jien shared her powder, and they found a costume for her, fitting almost perfectly the missing girl. Jien was pleased. She knew that Vaner would be watching, and he would know that the plan was a go. Some other girls came around when the curtain was about to lift and borrowed some powder, or some pins for their hair, but Jien barely registered their presence, more focused on Maered and the Cause.

...

The curtain opened, the dancers began, and Jien fell to her knees. A moment later Maered joined her. Then another girl. Then another. Vaner ran. Cadvan went after him.

Cadvan managed to corner Vaner in the dark, disused section of the School, and, backed against the wall, Vaner brandished his weapon, an evil grin on his face.

"Enjoying the game?" he asked.

"This is no game," Cadvan replied coldly, "Turn yourself in, Vaner. No one else will be harmed."

"Oh, but so many people have already," Vaner's eyes glinted in the dark, "Nice touch with the poison. Maered died tonight, you know."

Cadvan rallied his wits, and moved closer to the young man.

"You aren't going to kill me," Vaner smirked, all the mirth gone from his eyes, "It won't be that way. I am going to take this knife and shove it into your cheating, lying heart." He lunged at Cadvan, and Cadvan blocked him with his arm, leaving a long gash.

Cadvan parried Vaner, and the two bards were suddenly locked in a contest of physical might rather than mental wit. Vaner seemed to register this, and his movements became more calculated, more determined. Vaner leapt at Cadvan, and Cadvan, in a well timed move, disarmed Vaner and used his free hand to shove his blade hard between the boys ribs. Vaner let out a little hiss of pain, and Cadvan let him sink to the ground. With his foot on Vaner's chest, Cadvan pulled the knife from his victim, and looked down at him with what closely resembled pity.

"This was all a dream," Cadvan murmured, "you will never win." He turned to leave, and was halfway down the hall when he heard the chocked voice of Vaner.

"I just have. You killed her Cadvan."

...

Cadvan sprinted to the square, to the stage where Maered lay, ashen faced and silent, the pallor of life bleeding from her skin. He took her in his arms, and, with a cry of desperation, wiped her face clean of the poison, using his sleeve to rid her of the worst. Her pulse was faint when he tried to lift her face to his, and her head lolled to the side when he called her name.

She was alive, but it was her barding that would save her now. He could not.

"Maered," he sobbed, "Please come back. Use your healing. You can do it." Nothing happened, and Cadvan saw her face becoming impossibly paler. "Maered!" he shouted, hands tightening around her, "Maered, listen! Come back, use your barding. Come back!" His angry tears, so similar to the ones he had shed for Ceredin fell to the stage, his heart breaking. It was happening again, and like the first time he was powerless to stop it. He felt Maered's pulse begin to slow, and with his healing, attempted in vain to help her. Her pulse picked up for a moment, then crashed until there was no trace of life left.

He had killed her. He squeezed his eyes shut against the night, and heard noises around him, signalling others who came to help, but no one touched him, and he was grateful, sure that he could not move.

People cried; people screamed, and he was still. He stayed there, holding her and crying, the tears crashing like waves. _No, please come back,_ he thought._ For the Light's sake, Maered, come back!_

He thought it was over, that there was no hope, when he felt a hand on his cheek. Startled, he looked down and Maered smiled up at him, her face pained but sweet.

"You brought me back," she whispered. "I will be alright now."

Cadvan kissed her and buried his face in her hair.

**AN: so I'm calling it quit-sies on this now, I think that will do. If anyone wants more, just review, and I can fill you in or write a follow up. Nothing before New Year's though (If we survive... hehe) **

**R&R as always, goodnight :)**


	22. Epilogue, A Beginning

**AN: Aloha again! Hope everyone had a good Christmas! So I'm back, as per request. **

**Moonwolf0898: What are your ideas? I'd love to hear them, so I'll write a bit and you can review or PM me what you think :) **

**-Oh, PS, Allison Crogen made reference to the fact that there was no proof that Cadvan and Maered had ever married, probably because she wanted to keep a little mystery. I am toying with the idea of inventing a fact that would support this, though the marriage did take place, or leaving them in a domestic relationship. Not sure. Ideas?**

**Also, I think I'm going to write a sequel. Anyone who wants it just holler and I will make it so**

Cadvan shielded his eyes against the sun and squinted into the distance. His mouth was smiling, and his eyes were amused. A child was riding a little board in the surf, his dark hair a sandy tangle. Turbansk was beautiful in the summer, and the heat beat down in a warm caress. A pretty blond sat on a blanket, a little girl, barely a year old, curled, asleep in her arms.

Hem stood near by, in a broad rimmed sun hat, chest naked to reveal his tanned skin and wedding band, tied in the traditional style about his neck. It was his son playing in the waves, and his wife the blond with their new daughter Milla. His wife was a beauty, and their children sweet, all the things Cadvan had always held in high regard in terms of Maered's brother.

The child, named Suliman after Hem's greatest hero, laughed and slipped off his board. His father laughed, and went to the waves, picking him up by the waist and laughing along with the child.

"Enough of that," he said, "Come, you will be all sandy!"

"I don't want to!" Suliman wiggled out of his father's arms and back into the surf. Hem followed and picked him up like a sack of potatoes, and his wife called to them.

"Husband! Put him down! He isn't a toy!" She was grinning when she said this, but it only made Hem and his son more playful.

"Not a toy, eh?" Hem looked, mock-serious at his boy, "Well, lets see about that." And he let the youngster down, chasing him along the beach.

"I swear," Hem's wife said, acknowledging Cadvan with a loving head shake, "Sometimes he thinks he is a child again. I will never understand it."

"He needs to be a child some times," Cadvan replied candidly, "He spent his childhood growing up too fast and now he wishes to have some fun with his son."

"I suppose," Hem's wife said, changing subjects, "when do you think Maered will be here?"

"Soon, I suspect," Cadvan replied with a sigh, "she has been so busy as of late, no one sees her save to bring her tea and holiday gifts."

"At least she is busy," Hem's wife smiled warmly, "though I _would_ think she would be thinking about other things these days." There was an innuendo in her voice and Cadvan looked over.

"She has always been ambitious," he explained, "and it is a good thing, lest she grow bored with us mere mortals."

Hem's wife laughed, a tinkling, girlish laugh, and kissed her baby on her soft dark hair, so unlike her own.

"Still, Hem told me she doesn't want to settle. I never understood it—not now, especially considering everything." In 'everything,' she was referring to Cadvan and Maered's relationship and his desire to one day have children of his own, as well as the fact that Cadvan, who was no longer Maered's mentor, was still much in love, and desired to marry her.

"It is her choice," Cadvan defended her, "I am at her command."

"At her command?" Hem's wife said, "That's so romantic."

Cadvan was about to reply, but he heard a voice just behind him, calling.

Maered walked over to the little group, long wavy black hair blown wild behind her, little body covered in a thin sarong, and legs bare, showing off her shapely legs. She was smiling, and her beautiful face laughed.

"You are here Cadvan!" she sat beside him, "and you, Elise! How is baby Milla?"

"Well," Hem's wife, Elise, said, "she is a sweet baby."

"Oh, I am sure," Maered kissed the child's cheeks, "You are a cute little creature, aren't you?" The baby opened her eyes and made what looked like a smile, but she may have been passing gas.

"Where is my brother?" she asked Elise.

"Playing with Suliman, down the beach," Elise replied and Maered leaned into Cadvan. He put his arms around her waist and she turned around to kiss him playfully.

"Things went well, I think," Cadvan observed, in response to her general warmth.

"Oh yes," Maered beamed, "I have things cleared up with the council, and now I can enjoy my time away."

"So," Elise looked between the two lovers, "Should we expect a fall wedding?"

Well..." Cadvan and Maered said at the same time...

**AN: so leaving it there, tell me your ideas! (I'll pick this up once I know what you all think)**


	23. Epilogue Part 2

**AN: Okay, okay, I will do a part with a kid, just don't know if it will be a new story or not. If anyone wants it I will write it and post the name on this story, but I have to know if you want it or just a longer epilogue. Anyways, I'm continuing the epilogue for now, so R&R as always!**

Cadvan and Maered were married not in the fall, like Elise had suggested, but in the spring, for Maered was extremely busy with her work, and since their holiday in Turbask had not had a moment of time to plan such an affair. Indeed, the wedding was much anticipated among friends and family, but to the outside world the relationship was greeted with less than an appreciative eye.

There were some who supported the Lily of Annar's choice to marry her mentor, for some of the greatest bards had done so, but others argued that the marriage was inappropriate, as the age difference in the two parties was, even at that time, startling. It was not as noticeable, for bards, as they aged differently than regular men, but there was still some speculation and rumours that persisted.

Maered was aware of this, and, like any respectable woman in love, steadfastly ignored them, sure that once the marriage was over the gossip would decline and eventually stop, as the public's attention would be drawn elsewhere.

Once, Maered had mentioned this to Cadvan, and he had grown quiet and thoughtful, retreating into his familiar, brooding world. He had later questioned their relationship, not to himself, but to Malgorn, and, he telling Sylvia, had confided in Maered Cadvan's concern. It was not that he questioned loving her, or her love for him, but his age, and hers, and the idea that she should have someone younger, not as jaded to the world.

Maered, upon hearing Sylvia, had cried, quite unlike herself, and gone to her fiance with a speech prepared about her love for him, but, when she came to his room (they had not yet moved in together, and were still living, supposedly in virginal bliss, though they had purchased a cottage high above the river with a view of Innail,) she found a note from him on his bed, perfectly made as ever.

The note told her to come to the stables with her riding clothes, and when she had arrived, Cadvan was waiting for her with her horse and his saddled and a basket of sweetmeats and a bouquet of roses. Maered, needless to say, forgot her concern, and the two rode up to their new home and had lunch on the veranda, watching the lazy river and the bustling town.

Maered smiled and played with her wedding band around her neck at the thought of this, and moved out to the porch where so many months ago they had sat imagining their life together. Now they were newly wed, and since their honeymoon in the southern isles, she had nary a moment of peace, not because work on the council was particularly stressful, but because she had been flitting about for the last weeks arranging her new home, making it comfortable and purchasing the necessary furnishings for the rooms, though they had hired a young maid from the village to work in the cottage and help Maered, and, eventually, the children, if Maered wanted them.

Maered was not sure she did, but after her marriage a strange change had come over her, and she felt herself the owner of a voracious appetite and, when she looked in the mirror, saw the clothing of her wedding wardrobe, provided by Sylvia, fitting tighter. She found that her chest now strained against her dresses, and when she attempted to squeeze into her riding breeches, her bottom stuck out ridiculously. Attributing this simply to wedded bliss, she took to walking and riding, (stealing Cadvan's breeches, though they hung loose,) she attempted to lose the wedding fat, as she called it. Nervous that Cadvan had noticed this change in her, she stayed silent, and did not tell him of her concern, worried that he would be concerned and make a fuss about her, like he always did.

Instead of tell him, she went to Sylvia one morning, and Sylvia had given her a pleased once-over.

"You are beginning to show, my dear," she had said.

Maered's hands flew to her stomach and she blushed, sure that Sylvia had noticed how fat she had gotten.

"Is it that bad?" Maered asked, "I was trying to walk it off, to ride, but nothing seems to help. I keep getting fatter."

"And you will continue," Sylvia sat Maered down in a kitchen chair, "until the nine month is over. My dear daughter, you are to have a baby!"


	24. Author's Note on One Hundred Years

**Author's Note: **

**Hi everyone! So this is the end of The Broken Ones, but I'm writing a new story to follow this up called One Hundred Years, about Maered and Cadvan and their lives with kids. Follow up, and I hope you enjoyed this and the new story! As always, read and review! Cheers!**


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